Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in ...archaeobotany.berkeley.edu/publications/morellhart/... · dominated byceramicists, lithicists, osteologists, surveyors,

Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotanyin Mesoamerica

Christopher T. Morehart & Shanti Morell-Hart

# Springer Science+Business Media New York 2013

Abstract This essay examines the relationship between social archaeology andpaleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica, a region where paleoethnobotanical research hasbeen growing rapidly. We synthesize Mesoamerican paleoethnobotanical studies thathave gone beyond descriptions of subsistence economies, reconstructions of ecolog-ical systems, or static lists of identified plant remains. These paleoethnobotanicalinvestigations, we argue, transcend the ecofact to shed light on how human–plantinteraction was connected to power, agency, societal structures, and normativeconstraints—fundamental foci of research in social archaeology. Pulling on currenttrends in Mesoamerican paleoethnobotany, we show how these social archaeologicaltopics have been addressed via studies of political ecology and ritual. Future advancesin social paleoethnobotany are contingent upon methodological innovations in datasampling, quantification, analysis, and integration. We end with a consideration ofadditional pathways toward a social paleoethnobotany, which includes contributions tounderstanding materiality, past gender relations, environmental knowledge, and the effectof scale on analysis and interpretations.

Keywords Social archaeology . Mesoamerica . Paleoethnobotany . Ethnobotany

Introduction

This article situates paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica within the perspective of a socialarchaeology. Within recent decades, paleoethnobotany, the study of human–plant interac-tions in the past (Hastorf and Popper 1988; Pearsall 2000), has significantly increased inpresence in archaeology. More paleoethnobotanical studies are being published and morestudents are being trained in paleoethnobotany than ever before. In an archaeological world

J Archaeol Method TheoryDOI 10.1007/s10816-013-9183-6

C. T. Morehart (*)School of Human Evolution and Social Change, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ 85287, USAe-mail: [email protected]

S. Morell-HartDepartment of Anthropology, Stanford University, Building 50, 450 Serra Mall, Stanford, CA94305-2034, USA

dominated by ceramicists, lithicists, osteologists, surveyors, etc., archaeobotanical data longremained largely underutilized. Historically, unless funds existed to hire a consultant or aproject member was willing to take on the relatively unromantic and tedious tasks oflearning about plant biology and sorting through thousands of tiny seeds, bits of charcoal,pollen grains, etc., the dynamics of past human–plant worlds remained unexamined or wereinferred from ethnographic work or ethnohistoric documents.

This situation is changing. Beginning in the 1980s, a core group ofpaleoethnobotanists, some relatively self-trained, have produced a generation or twoof students focused on untangling how people in the past used plants to negotiate theirsocial, political, and economic relationships. This process is not just the naturalunfolding of archaeological knowledge. Although methodological advancements,emerging theoretical trends, and a new range of questions have created more opportu-nities for paleoethnobotany than previously, this expansion is also shaped by thehistorical political economy of academia (see Patterson 1999). More graduate students,but fewer standard research opportunities, and more PhDs, but fewer professionalpositions, cause students to look for new areas and untapped repositories of data tomake their professional identities stand out amidst schools of qualified applicants.Moreover, the number of publication outlets has exploded, offering increased opportu-nity to rapidly publish work from new perspectives in a growing (and progressivelycommercial) publication environment in both online and print formats.

As a result of these academic, economic, and sociopolitical processes, paleoethnobotanyis transforming. Paleoethnobotanists seek to go beyond basic questions of subsistence andenvironmental adaptation and employ archaeobotanical data to elucidate as many aspects ofpast social life as any other form of archaeological data (Pearsall 2000). The purpose of thisarticle is to synthesize this growing body of studies that consider plant remains in light of keyareas of social archaeology. We center our article in Mesoamerica, a somewhat arbitrarilydefined “culture area” that includes most of Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, and ElSalvador (Kirchoff 1943; cf. Hamann 2002; Demarest 2002; Nalda 1990; Fig. 1). Meso-america is currently witnessing growth in the number of practicing paleoethnobotanists, wellexemplifying the process of change discussed above. However, in a region where academicand popular imaginations have been historically focused on large cities, monumentalarchitecture, and the pomp and circumstance of elite life, paleoethnobotany’s contributionto reconstructing the past is not well known. The very fact that both professional discourseand popular imaginations of ancient Mesoamerica overwhelmingly have centered on themore romantic and macro-scale aspects of past society makes this synthetic review of moremicro-scale research all the more significant. Although a focus on Mesoamerica will not beas broad as other overviews of the field (e.g., Hastorf 1999; Pearsall 2000), it will gain indepth what it lacks in geographical and temporal breadth. ExaminingMesoamerica also willallow us to consider areas and theoretical topics not considered in more localized anddescriptive overviews, such as Turner and Miksicek’s (1984) and Lentz’s (1999) essays onarchaeobotanical evidence of agriculture and arboriculture among the Maya.

Below, we first offer a discussion of social archaeology’s aims in relation topaleoethnobotanical efforts to move beyond the ecofact. We then present examples ofresearch conducted by paleoethnobotanists that have dealt with issues of political ecologyand ritual—theoretical areas where paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica has most meshedwith social archaeology. Next, we stress how social paleoethnobotany depends on method-ological rigor regarding sampling, taphonomy, and data analysis and integration to realize its

Morehart and Morell-Hart

full potential. We end our discussion by suggesting future trends in social paleoethnobotany.Overall, this article is a review of published works that systematically address socialprocesses via paleoethnobotany. We specifically target publications and projects undertakenby paleoethnobotanists. The paper largely omits studies that are more paleoecological innature and those that are primarily descriptive taxa lists or short sections in larger site reports,even though one may argue that such “laundry list” (Pearsall 2000) reports are foundationalto more socially oriented paleoethnobotanical research. This study also omits an in-depthtreatment of reports and articles focused exclusively on documenting the origins of particulartaxa, the domestication of crops, and the introduction of agriculture. Paleoethnobotanists arepragmatic; our work shifts in focus and depth in response to immediate project needs andbroader field interests. Authors of highly descriptive studies have also produced theoreticallyrich and profound works. Despite their significance, however, more descriptive studies aregenerally not included in this article.

Paleoethnobotany, Social Archaeology, and the Tyranny of the Ecofact

In an intellectual climate where such terms as “processualism” and “post-processualism”are simultaneously meaningless and rich with signification (e.g., Johnson 2010; Morell-

Fig. 1 Map of Mesoamerica showing key sites discussed in text with accompanying research reference. 1Teotihuacan (McClung de Tapia 1977, 1980, 1985; Montúfar López 1996, 1999); 2 Tenochtitlan (BarreraRivera et al. 2001; Lopez Lujan et al. 2003;Montúfar López 1998, 2001, 2002, 2006, 2007, 2009a); 3Xaltocan(McClung de Tapia and Martínez Yrizar 2005; Morehart 2010; Morehart et al. 2012); 4 San Lorenzo (Lentzet al. 2005); 5 Chan Noohol (Lentz et al. 2005; Morehart and Helmke 2008); 6Actun Chapat, 7Actun Halal, 8Actun Chechem Ha, 9 Barton Creek Cave, 10 Twin Caves, 11 Tarantula Cave, 12 Actun Nak Beh (Morehart2005, 2001; Morehart et al. 2004; Morehart and Butler 2010; Morehart et al. 2005); 13 Pooks Hill (Morehartand Helmke 2008); 14 Guijarral and Chispas (Goldstein and Hageman 2009; Hageman and Goldstein 2009);15 Copan (Lentz 1990, 1991; McNeil 2006a, 2006b, 2009; McNeil et al. 2006); 16 Currusté, 17 PuertoEscondido, 18 Cerro Palenque, 19 Los Naranjos (Morell-Hart 2011, 2014); 20 La Joya, 21 Bezuapan(VanDerwarker 2006, 2010); 22 Huitzilapa (Benz et al. 2006); 23 La Quemada and associated sites (Turkon2004, 2006); 24 Blue Creek (Bozarth and Guderjan 2004); 25 Río Viejo (King 2003)

Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica

Hart 2013), the term "social archaeology" may seem to muddy the theoretical waters.This observation is especially relevant with a field that has historically focused on themost basic and material aspects of life: paleoethnobotany. At its most superficial level,social archaeology involves the application of ideas and concepts from social theory toarchaeology (e.g., Hodder 2007; Hodder and Hutson 2003; Meskell and Preucel 2007;Shanks and Tilley 1987). Conceptually, social archaeology denotes a particular set ofperspectives, diverse in content yet sharing the outlines of a similarly oriented frame-work. In a recently edited volume, Preucel and Meskell (2007: pp. 3–4) note that socialarchaeology goes beyond the archaeological study of social organization or the individ-ual’s position within a particular social milieu:

A social archaeology conceptualized as an archaeology of social being can belocated at the intersections of temporality, spatiality, and materiality. To takethese concepts as a focus of research is to explore the situated experiences ofmaterial life, the constitution of the object world and its shaping of humanexperience.

These three concepts, temporality, spatiality, and materiality, are either explicitprotagonists or implicit specters in many social archaeological studies. But we arguethat these elements of sociality are not intrinsically necessary for a social archaeologicalperspective, particularly for paleoethnobotanists. Archaeological writing elucidatessociality not simply when it targets the material and immaterial processes of being andbecoming but, moreover, when it examines power, agency, and their interrelationshipswith either social structures (i.e., kinship, class, etc.) or normative constraints (Brumfiel1992; Hegmon 2003).

Plant remains historically are classed as “ecofacts.” This term, which virtuallyevery student of archaeology encounters early in introductory courses, coversunmodified biological remains, including plants and animals, whose deposition wasthe result of human activity (Renfrew and Baun 2000: p. 45; Sutton and Arkush 1996:p. 335). Ecofacts typically are not considered artifacts unless clear indications existthat they were modified (i.e., for tool use). We argue that the term limits the use ofarchaeobotanical data to understand the past. This classification reinforces a view ofbotanical remains as secondary to the study of more durable assemblages or as simpleutilitarian resources, creating obstacles in how scholars integrate archaeobotanicalremains as significant bodies of data into their narratives of the past. It also fosters aresearch environment in which plant remains are employed exclusively to describesubsistence economies, reconstruct macro-scalar environmental shifts, and documentthe origins and dispersal of specific or suites of taxa.

The term ecofact itself is misleading. Few archaeologists or paleoethnobotanisthave recovered plant remains unmodified by human activity. Moreover, many taxaare the product of thousands of years of human–plant interaction, particularly do-mesticated cultigens. Even the use of botanical data to construct long-term vegetationhistories and document environmental impact must confront the anthropogenic natureof past landscapes (e.g., Denevan 1992; Lentz 2000; Whitmore and Turner 2001). Asartifacts, plants are collected, processed, used, consumed, and discarded (Schiffer1987). Compared to other forms of archaeological data, plant remains are shaped byunique depositional, taphonomic, and dispersal mechanisms (see Hastorf and Popper1988; Minnis 1981; Pearsall 2000). Yet their qualitatively particular pathways


through the archaeological record are inadequate justifications to partition themconceptually and interpretively from artifacts.

Engaging in social paleoethnobotany requires amove beyond the tyranny of the ecofactand the recognition of plants as artifacts. As we present below, social paleoethnobotanistsincreasingly examine how human–plant interactions were shaped by peoples’ culturalmodels of the world and their position within different social relationships. Moreover, asthe studies we present demonstrate, social paleoethnobotanists in Mesoamerica examinearchaeobotanical remains as connected to social practices situated in time and space, ratherthan only as broad trends that generalize a people’s economy or ecology. In so doing, theydemonstrate plants as necessary artifacts in the structure, reproduction, and transformationof human society.

Despite the view of social archaeology discussed above, social paleoethnobotanicalinterests in Mesoamerica are more in line with what Hegmon (2003) has labeled“processualism-plus.”Given the particularities of archaeobotanical data, paleoethnobotanistscannot eschew the ecological and economic dimensions of human behavior. Moreover,this characteristic makes paleoethnobotanical studies uniquely situated to trace the inter-sections of social and ecological systems. Brumfiel (1992) argued that understanding theinfluence of these two pervasive structural constraints on human agency is a key researchdomain of more social approaches in archaeology. This trend in social paleoethnobotanyalso conforms to the social archaeology developed first by Latin American archaeologiststo study social and cultural transformation via changing political economies and modes ofproduction (e.g., Armillas 1979; Lumbreras 1984; McGuire 1992; Palerm 1980;Rosenwig 2012). As we discuss below, paleoethnobotanists working in Mesoamericahave integrated their pursuit of power, agency, practice, and normative constraint intolarger questions surrounding political ecology and ritual. These trends reflect the concernsof social archaeology and provide clear examples of a growing interest in socialpaleoethnobotany. They also offer guides for future directions to approach questions ofgender, materiality, the nature of traditional ecological knowledge, and the scale ofanalysis and interpretation.

Paleoethnobotany and Political Ecology

Political ecologists study how power relations mediate and shape human interaction withthe environment. Intellectually, this approach developed as environmental anthropologistsbecame increasingly aware of the historical trajectories that shaped their case studies,histories laden with power and inequality existing locally and, increasingly, globally(Roseberry 1989; Wolf 1982). A common definition of political ecology is the study ofcultural ecology, or how human groups adapt to their environments, with the analyticaltools and concepts of political economy (e.g., Blaikie and Brookfield 1987; Paulson et al.2005: p. 17; Peet and Watts 1996; Robbins 2012). A political economy is the structureddistribution of wealth and power in a society (Brumfiel 1992; Hirth 1996; Johnson andEarle 2000). Archaeologists typically examine political economies in terms of classrelations, surplus production, and the financing of political institutions (D’Altroy andEarle 1985; Earle 1997; Feinman and Nicholas 2004; Paynter 1989). However, scholarswho examine power as bottom-up, dispersed, and imminent in the actions of past peopleenrich these top-down perspectives (e.g., Erickson 2006; Feinman 2006; Perez Rodriguez


2006; Pyburn 1998; Robin 2006). Social groups reproduce political economies locallythrough economic production and the active engagement with and adaptation to theenvironment.

Political ecology’s contribution to the social sciences goes beyond simply insertinginequality into narratives of human adaptation. Political ecology examines how localgroups navigate and “live” (both materially and discursively) forms of power andinequality existing at multiple nested scales (Escobar 1999; Paulson and Gezon 2005;Peet and Watts 1996; Rocheleau 1999). Consequently, political ecology is a crucialcomponent of historical ecology, which seeks to disentangle the complex, variable, andsystemic connections between human and nonhuman agents over time and space (e.g.,Balée 2006; Balée and Erickson 2006; Barton et al. 2004; Crumley 1994; Latour 2004;Lentz 2000; Zimmerer 1994; Snead et al. 2009; Thompson and Waggoner 2013).

The political ecological dimension of social paleoethnobotany represents a majorcontribution to the broader discipline of ethnobiology. The history of ethnobiology ismarked by highly descriptive accounts on the role of plants in specific societies andcultures. This field is dominated in Mesoamerica by research that records theeconomic roles of specific or entire suites of plants either to document the generalutility of botanical resources or to provide descriptions of plant knowledge as a corecharacteristic of a people’s cultural way of life (e.g., Alcorn 1984; Flores and Balam1997; Barrera Marin et al. 1976; Gómez-Pompa and Kaus 1990; Vogt 1976). Theethnoscientific study of plant classification further illustrates the cultural and linguis-tic approach in ethnobiology to access distinctive systems of thought and behaviortoward the environment, a field of study with a long history in Mesoamerica (e.g.,Atran and Ucan Ek’ 1999; Berlin et al. 1974; Breedlove and Hopkins 1971;Breedlove and Laughlin 1993; Metzger and Williams 1966; Stross 1973).

Yet ethnobiologists increasingly identify the need to go beyond the culture conceptand recognize the historically contingent nature of human–environmental interaction.As Nabhan et al. (2011:1) observed in a recent commentary in the Journal of Ethnobi-ology, most research has “side-stepped the examination of the political, economic, cross-cultural and media-driven ‘external’ pressures which have affected not only the naturalresources themselves, but the cultural perceptions and uses of them.” By examiningshifting political economies across space and deep time, social paleoethnobotanicalresearch on political ecology offers fundamental contributions not only to ethnobiologybut to the social and historical sciences.

InMesoamerica, McClung de Tapia’s (1977, 1980, 1985) work on the paleoethnobotanyof Teotihuacan likely represents the first effort to examine how political economic processesshaped past plant use (and is perhaps the first example of social paleoethnobotany).Specifically, she examined the relationship between class and status and access to particularkinds of vegetable foods. She compared the proportion of various taxa from Tetitla, an eliteapartment compound, and Yayahuala, a more modest compound. Although a greatervolume of soil was floated from Yayahuala than from Tetitla, Tetitla samples were richerin both the overall number of seeds as well as the number of identified genera. Sheconcluded that “the habitants of Tetitla seem to have been quite more ‘comfortable’ thanthose of Yayahuala” (McClung de Tapia 1980: p. 154). McClung de Tapia, however,remained cautious about pushing the data too far and considered the possibility that someof the patterns may have resulted from preservation or sampling. Nonetheless, her work


offers a significant step beyond the ecofact and provides an easily replicable way to studyclass relations paleoethnobotanically.

Lentz’s (1991) classic article on class and diet among the ancient Maya of Copan,Honduras is a well-known example of studying political economy via paleoethnobotanyin Mesoamerica. Lentz conducted an extensive study of the charred plant remainsrecovered during several years of excavations at the Late Classic period (ca. 600–900CE) political center. He documented a typical assortment of domesticates, such as maize(Zea mays), beans (Phaseolus spp.), and squash (Cucurbita spp.), but also recoveredevidence for arboriculture (Lentz 1990).

Like McClung de Tapia, Lentz goes beyond simple statements on the overall diet ofCopan to examine internal variation in the archaeobotanical assemblage. He addresses theproportions of specific plant remains as well as the diversity of food remains frommoundsinhabited by different socioeconomic segments of Copan’s Late Classic population. Lentzfound that larger mounds, representing more elite groups, had a higher diversity of plantfoods than smaller, moremodest structures. He argues that economic status was connectedto differential access to botanical resources, emphasizing the interrelationships betweennutrition and social structure. His work showed the potential of paleoethnobotany intracing complex political economic processes and class relations (despite the vagaries ofpreservation in the Neotropical Maya Lowlands). Lentz’s conclusions are supported byzooarchaeological and bioarchaeological research both at Copan and at other lowlandMaya sites (e.g., Carr 1996; Coyston et al. 1999; Emery 2003; Gerry 1997; Pohl 1994;Shaw 1999; Whittington and Reed 1997; White et al. 2001).

In contrast, King’s (2003; see also King 2008) study of Early Postclassic socialorganization at Río Viejo in coastal Oaxaca incorporated paleoethnobotanical data toidentify an absence of class difference. Her investigations of two households employedphytolith analysis (conducted by Steven Bozarth) and macrobotanical analysis(conducted by Sissel Johannessen) of samples taken from living surfaces and ceramicvessels. She identified locations related to the processing of maize, inferred from thepresence of maize cob and leaf phytoliths, and suggested that individual householdswere economically self-sufficient. The distribution of locally available foodstuffs (in-cluding maize, palms (Arecaceae), and hackberry fruits [Celtis spp.]) was similarbetween household groups. However, households were marked by exotic, non-localmaterials, including conifers and cacti, demonstrating differential participation inbroader economic networks. King argues that ethnobotanical knowledge and practicefostered extra-household cohesion: "cooking food and sharing prepared food on a dailybasis, instead of binding residents of a single house together, might have connectedresidents of multiple individual house structures into larger social units” (2003: p. 356).

An equally significant study on the political ecological dynamics of plant resources waspublished by Cliff and Crane (1989; see also Crane and Carr 1994; Crane 1996). Theseresearchers employed both palynological and macrofloral data to examine human–plantinteractions at Cerros, a Late Formative center in northern Belize. Residents at Cerroscultivated maize and other domesticates, but their subsistence economy shifted over time.As the polity grew in power between 100 and 150 CE, maize became less abundant in thearchaeobotanical record. However, the remains of tree crops increased in frequency,notably nance (Byrsonima crassifolia) and coyol (Acrocomia aculeata). Cliff and Craneinterpret these data as evidence of greater reliance on imported tree fruits perhaps


exchanged in a marketplace in the site’s central core, which was inhabited by higher statusgroups. They dismiss the possibility that the change represents elite residents engaged inmore intensive arboriculture over time (Cliff and Crane 1989: p. 317). At least by the LateClassic and early Colonial periods, however, elites maintained orchards of useful trees asheritable possessions (McAnany 1995; McNeil 2009; Morehart 2005, 2011; Schele andMathews 1998). Overall, Cliff and Crane’s study integrated complementary botanicaldatasets to address wealth disparities and transformations over time in the politicaleconomy.

The use of archaeobotanical data as proxies for trade goods is strangely uncom-mon in Mesoamerica. Local political economies were complex; both market placesand market exchange existed and most items obtained at markets likely were organic.In the Maya Lowlands of the upper Belize valley, Lentz et al. (2005) explained thedifferential distribution of pine charcoal (Pinus sp.) from habitation sites as due to acombination of class and trade. Today, Belize has two broad habitats of pine forest,the lowland pine savannas and the Mountain Pine Ridge of the Maya Mountains.Lentz et al. studied higher and lower status households, determined by architecturalsize and artifactual elaboration, and found that lower status households had signifi-cantly less pine charcoal despite their greater geographical proximity to the MountainPine Ridge. Examining a range of other items and resources that may have come fromthe Maya Mountains, such as slate and greenstone, and ethnographic descriptions ofcharcoal production and trade, they conclude that pine was a specialized commoditywith an elite controlled distribution.

Farther from the Maya Lowlands, VanDerwarker (2005, 2006, 2010) studiedarchaeobotanical data from the Early Formative to Early Classic period Olmec sites ofLa Joya and Bezuapan in the Tuxtla region along the Mexican Gulf Coast. She docu-mented a dynamic pattern of plant (and animal) exploitation at both sites, which wasclosely wedded to the seasonal and spatial distribution of resources and settlements. Inthe Early Formative period, for instance, residents at La Joya were fairly mobileseasonally. But by the Late to Terminal Formative period infield maize productionintensified, as measured by kernel-to-cupule ratios of processing behavior. Arboricultureof coyol (Acrocomia sp.) and avocado (Persea americana) also increased. She suggeststhat this change was directly related to increased sociopolitical stratification in the region,particularly “the rise of regional leaders who likely encouraged the mobilization of maizetribute from farmsteads and villages to political centers” (VanDerwarker 2006: p. 114).Yet she also explored the development of differences in the botanical assemblages thatindicate the regional political system affected the two sites differently. Residents of LaJoya paid less tribute in agricultural products than Bezuapan. Recent work byVanDerwarker and Kruger (2012) reinforces the conclusion that regional political devel-opment shaped food production, especially maize. Given inter-site variation in produc-tion and the relatively low yield of the maize varieties documented, they propose thatmaize served as an early prestige good employed during ritual feasting at a key time ofsocial transformation (see also Taube 1996). In documenting the relationship betweenmaize production and political extraction, her conclusions are similar to those presentedby archaeobotanists studying sociopolitical stratification, especially in the SoutheasternUnited States (e.g., Scarry 1993; Scarry and Steponaitis 1997; Welch and Scarry 1995).

Archaeologists in the New World commonly draw direct connections betweenmaize agriculture and political finance, though these claims are rarely supported via


archaeobotanical data such as those VanDerwarker presents. Recently, Morehart andEisenberg (2010) specifically examined this issue by studying maize remains fromthe Postclassic period kingdom of Xaltocan and its associated raised field agriculturalsystem (chinampas) in the northern Basin of Mexico. This site developed rapidlyfrom its initial settlement in the tenth century CE and was a powerful polity by themid-fourteenth century (Brumfiel 2005). Archaeobotanical research in the centralcommunity documented an increase in the frequency of maize as the kingdom grewin power and influence (Brumfiel 2005; McClung de Tapia and Martínez Yrizar2005). Morehart and Eisenberg conducted morphological measurements on severalcob attributes to assess the impact of political demands on farming strategies. Theydocumented a dramatic decline in the diversity of maize varieties in the community asthe kingdom developed. Morehart and Eisenberg argue that this pattern of change wasthe result of increased polity reliance on chinampa production and a concomitantincrease in the tributary burdens on local chinampa farmers. After the Xaltocan wasconquered and eventually incorporated into the expanding Aztec empire in thefifteenth century CE, the diversity of maize in the community increased again.Morehart and Eisenberg suggest the increased diversity indicates that Late Postclassicproducers paid tribute to the Aztecs less in maize and more in labor on noble estates,as warriors, or in the production of finished cloth.

Turkon (2006) undertook a similar study onmaize remains fromClassic period (500–900 CE) sites in the Malpaso Valley of Zacatecas. She conducted morphologicalmeasurements on maize cupules recovered from household middens from three hierar-chically distinct sites: La Quemada, which represents a first tier site, Los Pilarillos,which is the second largest site in the area, and El Potretito, which was classed as a thirdtier settlement. She found that maize from all three sites tends to cluster into three groupsbased on shape and size, which differ due to a combination of genetic and environmentalfactors. The larger cupules, she argues, are from maize possibly cultivated in contextsthat receivedmore water overall or receivedmore water at critical periods in the growingcycle (Turkon 2006: p. 158). Her key finding, however, was that both the largest cupulesand the most distinctively shaped cupules were more abundant in higher status middens.She suggests that elite inhabitants in the Malpaso Valley not only had access to superiormaize but also to water and, perhaps, better irrigated land.

Turkon’s study recognizes how plants are subjected to the same social processes asother items, such as fine ware pottery, jade, shell, and other sumptuary goods. In fact, herstudy is of critical importance to understanding class and power in the Malpaso Valley. Asshe observes: “In the Malpaso Valley, there is a lack of prestige items or significantwealth…limited evidence for craft specialization…and a near-absence of individual burialtreatment” (Turkon 2004: p. 228). In tackling this problem, her work goes beyond thestudy of variation in maize types to include a broader assemblage of food remains (Turkon2004). By examining diversity of multiple taxa, indices of crop production (i.e., kernel tocupule ratios), and other artifactual indices related to production and consumption (e.g.,groundstone index and serving vessel index), she determined that elite households wereless involved in food preparation but had more access to higher value foods, likelyconsumed via feasting activities. Her study also resists the simple dichotomy betweencommoner and elite (Turkon 2004: p. 245). For example, intra-site variation in indices ofproduction and consumption at La Quemada, the highest ranked site, suggests differentsocial connections among groups residing at the center. Elite contexts at other sites, such as


La Pilarillos, had more evidence of food preparation, suggesting that feasting played a keyrole in constructing power and status in secondary centers in the Malpaso Valley.

Paleoethnobotany and Ritualization

A growing body of social paleoethnobotanical investigations employs plant remainsto identify, characterize, and understand past ritualized practices. These studies arecritical of the utilitarian emphasis in paleoethnobotany that views plant remains onlyas indicators of ecological settings, subsistence patterns, or utilitarian resources. Thisline of research has been productive due to the nature of ritual deposits. Archaeolog-ically, rituals are often single depositional events sometimes deliberately placed insealed, secure, or otherwise unique stratigraphic contexts (but see Walker 2002).Paleoethnobotanists studying ritual stress the symbolic significance of plants asartifacts of ritual experience and as key components in the physical materializationof religious beliefs and conceptual models. Much of this work links archaeobotanicalremains with information in ethnographic or ethnohistoric texts as well as iconogra-phy. Further, many paleoethnobotanists go beyond the reconstruction of normativebeliefs to examine the sociality of ritual practice, or ritualization (Bell 1992). Thesepaleoethnobotanists argue that religious beliefs structure but do not determine behav-ior. Ritualization is contingent upon both culture and power, also offering a uniqueopportunity to incorporate ritual practices in political ecology.

Montúfar López’s (1998, 2001, 2006, 2007, 2009a, 2009b) research on plants inAztec offerings represents one of the most intensive, long-term efforts to study ritualusing archaeobotanical data. With the exception of descriptive work by Morehart et al.(2012) on floral offerings in the northern Basin of Mexico and González Quintero’s(1986) analysis of botanical offerings in Coyoacan, her investigations represent rarework on ritually deposited plant remains in the region. Although she undertook somepreliminary research on plants from ritual contexts at Teotihuacan (Montúfar López1996, 1999), her work on ritual has occurred mainly in conjunction with excavationsadjacent to the Templo Mayor, the twin pyramid to Tlaloc and Huitzilopochtli, whichoccupied the center of the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan. Archaeological research at theTemplo Mayor has yielded an incredible assemblage of ritually deposited items andofferings, stone boxes that contain sacred and rare minerals, flora, fauna, and prestigegoods obtained throughout the empire (see López Luján 1993; López Luján 2003,2004). The assortment of plant and organic remains from these offerings include cottontextiles; seeds of food items, such as maize, beans (spp.), chia (Salvia spp.), amaranth(Amaranthus spp.), nopal (Opuntia spp.), passion fruit (Passiflora spp.), chiles (Capsi-cum spp.), agave (Agave spp.), etc.; flowers; woods; leaves of Mexican willow(ahuehuete, Taxodium mucronatum); branches of mesquite (Prosopis spp.); spines fromagave; and resin from incense.

Montúfar López approaches these items as windows into the cosmological andreligious universe of the Aztecs. She pulls on ethnohistoric data to explore the symbolicassociations of these materials, to propose affiliations with particular deities, and even toassess the time in which a ritual may have occurred (Montúfar López 1998, 2002, 2007;see also Sierra Carrillo 2006). She also connects these data to reconstructions of thephysical landscape seen from the perspective of the imperial center (Montúfar López


1998). In searching for links between the archaeobotanical record and human behavior,Montúfar López has gone beyond an exclusive reliance on written comparative data andhas engaged in ethnographic and ethnobotanical work. She has collected data on rainand agricultural rites as well as the production of copal incense (from Bursera bipinnata)in the town of Temalacatzingo, Guerrero (Montúfar López 2007, 2009a, b). In thesestudies, plants are not simply material objects of ritual behavior but are, rather, activecomponents of ritualized practice.

Farther from central Mexico, palynological research conducted by Rue et al. (1989)at Gordon’s Cave III, in the Copan Valley, revealed evidence of ancient floral offeringsdating from the Middle Formative period to the Classic period (see also Brady 1995).Ninety-nine percent of the total pollen recovered was of an unknown taxon. Thespecimens were composed of thousands of clustered grains, likely representing theanthers of flowers. Although it is possible that the flower pollen was blown into thecave and represents ancient environmental conditions, the fact that this pollen type wasfound in all stratigraphic levels and the clustered nature of the grains suggests that theancient inhabitants of the region brought flowers to the cave for offerings.

McNeil’s (2006a, b, 2009; McNeil et al. 2006) paleoethnobotanical research onritual, also at Copan, represents another significant example of using plant remains todocument normative beliefs and practices. Her work greatly expands the preliminaryresearch by Rue et al. (1989) and employs microfloral data to study elite ritual inCopan’s civic-ceremonial center. McNeil collected pollen samples from the interiorsof tombs and temples. Her decision to study pollen data intensively constitutes aninnovative strategy to reconstruct past ritual in contexts where such research is rare.The decomposition of uncarbonized macrofloral material eliminates virtually allvisible traces of botanical items used during rituals, an unfortunate taphonomicprocess given that organic items represent the bulk of ritual paraphernalia, at leastethnographically (see Vogt 1976).

Like Montúfar López, McNeil links her identifications of species in thearchaeobotanical record to ethnographic and ethnohistoric descriptions as well as toiconographic and epigraphic representations. These comparative data allow her toexplore overlapping patterns of meaning through identified taxa. Her interpretationsare rich and deeply textured, providing a rare window into a past landscape that wasboth physical and spiritual. Her documentation of cattail pollen (Typha sp.) in templedeposits suggests the ritual recreation of Tollan or “the Place of Reeds,” the mythicalhomeland of many Mesoamerican groups (McNeil 2006a, b, 2009; McNeil et al.2006). Likewise, the discovery of cacao offerings (Theobroma cacao) in ritualdeposits allowed McNeil to examine the intersecting associations that connect cacaowith political power, death, and the underworld (see also Prufer and Hurst 2007).McNeil’s (McNeil et al. 2010) effort to integrate both the ecological and spirituallandscape of Classic period Copan has also produced significant data on environ-mental change in the region, contributing to previous studies.

Bozarth and Guderjan (2004) also recognized the utility of microfloral approaches indocumenting the ritual use of plants. They extracted and identified biosilicates (partic-ularly phytoliths and sponge spicules) from several dedicatory caches at Blue Creek, aMaya center in northwestern Belize. They documented phytoliths from maize, squash(Cucurbita spp.), palms (spp.), bromeliads (Bromeliaceae spp.), agave, and heliconia(Heliconia spp.). Bozarth and Guderjan suggest that these are remnants of offerings of


foods and other items. They also found high frequencies of sponge spicules, revealingthat items from the ocean were incorporated into the caches. Their goal, however, was notjust to identify the materials included in the caches but also to understand how cachingbehavior was connected to broader ritual practices. Similar to McNeil’s work at Copan,they suggest that the inclusion of specific items in the caches indicates efforts to recreatemythological episodes central to Maya cosmology: “In each of the caches, we see ‘mostfavored’ elements of each component: the sea, the land and the sky” (Bozarth andGuderjan 2004: p. 206). Their research documents widespread patterns in thought andbehavior, given that the caches were recovered from contexts associated with distinctivesocial strata and in both public and private areas (Bozarth and Guderjan 2004: p. 213).

Although very preliminary, Benz et al.’s (2006) analysis of organic offerings in ashaft tomb in Jalisco, Mexico explored burial treatment as a reflection of past socialprocesses. They specifically examine vessel contents from the elaborate Huitzilapashaft tomb, which contained the remains of six individuals in two chambers. Al-though they were not able to identify many of materials from the vessels, they diddocument the presence of agave fibers, cotton fibers, and a piece of bark paper(possibly from Ficus tecolutensis). Agave fibers were more common, likely due tothe regional ubiquity of textiles made from this plant. Cotton fibers, however, wererestricted to the more lavish, northern burial chamber, and Benz et al. suggest thisreveals a relationship between cotton cloth and higher class. They propose that thebark paper found in the southern chamber indicates that the male individual interredwas also of high status, perhaps a scribe.

Morell-Hart (2011) integrated micro-floral and macro-floral data to consider ritualpractice at several sites in Northwestern Honduras. At the four sites of her study,many plants she identified are referenced in the Ritual of the Bacabs (Roys 1965) aswell as other literature that addresses purely medicinal uses. Such plants includeavocado, soursop (Annona sp.), achira (Canna sp.), and nance. However,distinguishing foodstuffs from specific ritual plants proved difficult and taxa wereidentified in multiple functional domains. Morell-Hart instead examined how plantswere associated with activities that defy strict subsistence, medicinal, or ritualcategories.

Morell-Hart (2011) documented ritualized activity, even when items were recov-ered from non-ceremonial contexts. She found that ritual practice may be inferredindirectly from remains recovered from artifacts used in preparation of ceremonialmaterials. Bromeliaceae phytoliths were recovered from three obsidian blade frag-ments. She suggests that the blades may have been used to prepare species of thisfamily to adorn perishable altars, a practice described ethnographically. Heliconia andpine phytoliths also were recovered outside of defined ritual contexts. She speculatesthat heliconias, common shade and decorative plants today, may have had similarroles in ancient times or were used ritually as described above by Bozarth andGuderjan (2004). The pine could be remnants of fuel or torches that were incorpo-rated into ritual activities.

Morehart’s (2005, 2011;Morehart et al. 2004, 2005;Morehart and Butler 2010) workin Lowland Maya caves of western Belize represents a regional effort to understandritual using archaeobotanical data. Focusingmainly onmacrofloral material, though alsostarch grain and textile analysis, Morehart studied archaeobotanical assemblages col-lected from seven caves in three tributary valleys of the greater upper Belize River


watershed. As sites that were perceived to be access points to the underworld, cavesoffer a remarkable opportunity to understand ritual behavior (e.g., Brady and Prufer2005). Moreover, preservation in caves is much better than at surrounding habitationsites. Many of Morehart’s interpretations are descriptive and draw associations betweenparticular species and plants used today or depicted iconographically. For example, acomplex feature from Barton Creek Cave yielded a spatially structured assemblage ofbotanical remains, including maize, beans, two species of squash (Cucurbita pepo andC. moschata), chile peppers, cotton textiles (Gossypium sp.), and the charcoal of pine,copal (Protium sp.), and cacao (Theobroma sp.). Similar to the approaches discussedabove, Morehart (2011) proposed the spatial organization of the feature’s contentsreflects myths about the death of themaize god and his passage through the Underworld.Morehart also undertook an intensive study of charred woods from several cave sites,which revealed the use of trees with rich symbolic meanings. The ritual burning of pine,however, was by far the most common. Morehart et al. (2005) examined possiblemeanings associated with burning pine ceremonially. Rather than just a simple needfor lighting, they propose that burning pine represented a key formulaic act thatvalidated many ritual performances.

Recognizing the relationship between commonality and variability in archaeobotanicalassemblages is an important step toward documenting ritualization as well as integratingpaleoethnobotanical research on religion into political ecology. Goldstein and Hageman(2009) conducted a study that examines how power and agency affected ritual plant useand intersected with normative cultural models. They analyzed macrofloral remains fromGuijarral, a local center, and Chispas, a more modest architectural group, in central Belize.Integrating botanical remains with other classes of artifacts, they argue that many of the taxarecovered from midden deposits at Guijarral represent botanical items used in ritual feasting,whereas materials from Chispas’ middens are from everyday domestic meals. They notesignificant differences in the assemblages between the two sites but find that maize wasunderrepresented overall. They argue that practices at both sites show similarities in culturalcodes on the selection of food and the structure of what constitutes a meal (see Douglas1970). However, they propose that variations from the ideal represent a process ofestablishing distinctions between different groups or, at least, specific consumption practices.They conclude that documenting such patterns of variationwill allowpaleoethnobotanists “todecipher social practices that dealt with negotiation of power and inequality between thesesites based on the rituals that their use encoded” (Goldstein and Hageman 2009: p. 438).

In a similar vein, Morehart and Butler (2010) documented spatial variation in botanicalfood offerings between cave sites in western Belize. In some cases, they were able toassess the seasonality and function of ritual by studying the condition of plant remains.Underdeveloped maize remains from Chechem Ha and Actun Chapat, for instance,suggest possible first fruit offerings. Conversely, fully developed maize remains and othercultigens from Barton Creek Cave indicate offerings either after the maturation of fruits orstored crops left as offerings in anticipation of the coming rains. However, at Actun NakBeh, a cave site connected to a Late Classic period ceremonial center, no remains ofdomesticated crops were recovered. Instead, the remains of tree crops were found,possibly from orchards controlled and inherited by local nobility. To interpret thesedifferences in offerings, Morehart and Butler employ theories of gift exchange and socialdebt. They argue that fulfilling perpetual moral commitments to deities was a widespreadand necessary act across all sectors of society. But the manner in which such commitments


were carried out depended both on the immediate “function” of a rite and on the socialposition and political power of practitioners.

Methodological Refinement

McClung de Tapia (1980, 1985) was an early advocate in Mesoamerican paleoethnobotanyfor increased methodological and interpretive rigor. She stressed increasing training, en-hancing integration into overall project research design, more effectively combiningarchaeobotanical data with other forms of archaeological materials, and improving commu-nication between specialists (McClung de Tapia 1985: p. 148). Historically speaking,however, little discussion on method has occurred between paleoethnobotanists workingin Mesoamerica, particularly on sampling, processing, preservation, and quantification.Increased attention to method is critical if social paleoethnobotanists are to address the kindsof questions central to social archaeology convincingly.

For macrofloral research, no universally recommended size for flotation samplesexists, as all research contexts differ (Pearsall 2000). However, the reasons behindparticular sample sizes must be made explicit. Given good preservation in caves inthe Maya Lowlands, Morehart (2011) recommends 1-L soil samples, which is idealwhen researchers have to transport them long distances through the jungle. However,1-L samples might be too small in most habitation sites given poor preservation.Morell-Hart (2011), for instance, recommended 40-L samples for higher recoveryrates in Northwestern Honduras.

Sampling strategies also vary (see Bohrer and Adams 1977; Lennstrom and Hastorf1995; Pearsall 2000). Blanket sampling strategies, in which samples are recovered fromevery excavation level and/or stratum (Pearsall 2000), are useful if the nature of the siteand its deposits are not known. But such sampling should be modified as excavationprogresses, calling for close collaboration with paleoethnobotanists in the field. Moreover,more spatially systematic sampling within household contexts can reveal variable patternsof production and consumption critical to reconstructing social practice in daily life (e.g.,Bohrer and Adams 1977; Bogaard et al. 2009; González Quintero 1999; Hastorf 1991;Lennstrom andHastorf 1992; VanDerwarker, et al. 2007). Hageman and Goldstein (2009)offer a systematic report on archaeobotanical sampling in Mesoamerica. They compareboth flotation and dry screening as two approaches to obtain macrobotanical remains.They found that neither recoverymethod is intrinsically better than the other but suggestedboth techniques should be implemented together. Hageman and Goldstein do not assessthe condition of the plant materials themselves, however, and a comparison of recoveryrates and relative abundance of carbonized versus uncarbonized seeds is useful todistinguish culturally versus naturally deposited material (see below).

Such taphonomic and contextual issues need to be considered, especially to avoidpositing cultural interpretations for intrusive items (see Schiffer 1987). Criteria areneeded to eliminate potentially intrusive seeds or to identify seeds that were depositednaturally in the past (McClung de Tapia 1985; Minnis 1981). In tropical areas, organicremains typically do not preserve unless they are carbonized or are from specialcontexts. Any non-carbonized items should be noted. Morehart (2003), for example,observed that many small seeds in Late Postclassic and Colonial deposits in northernBelize are likely naturally occurring components of the seed rain (past and present)


produced by Neotropical bats. Uncarbonized examples of these taxa are likely intrusive,but even carbonized specimens should be treated with caution. Furthermore, greaterresearch is needed to utilize archaeobotanical data to define the functional nature ofcontexts themselves, especially, but not exclusively, in the case of ostensible ritualdeposits (Morell-Hart 2011).

In addition to the condition of recovered remains, the nature of their depositionalcontexts needs to be established. Lentz (1991), for example, noted the possible effect ofdifferent kinds of architecture on plant preservation at Copan.Wyatt (2008) documentedsubstantial pine charcoal in samples from agricultural terraces in the Maya Lowlandsand argues that the pine is from hearth ash redeposited in fields to enhance soil fertility.Pine charcoal also was very common in chinampa samples from Xaltocan studied byMorehart and Eisenberg (2010) and may reflect similar practices (Morehart 2010).Morell-Hart (2011) encountered several taphonomic and depositional complicationsduring her analysis of possible ritual plant use at sites in Northwestern Honduras. Oftenmaterials recovered from burial contexts appeared to have been mixed with other non-ritual matrices, such as construction fill, and included charred bits of foodstuffs morecommonly found in associated middens and occupational debris.

Data quantification is critical if paleoethnobotanists are to go beyond descriptive “laundrylists” of flora (Pearsall 2000; Popper 1988; VanDerwarker 2010). Most of the studiesdiscussed above quantify floral remains either via absolute counts, weights, or ubiquitymeasures. Morehart (2011) offers a detailed summary of the strengths and limitations ofdifferent ways to quantify data. Turkon (2004) and VanDerwarker (2006) employ ratios,such as kernel to cupule indices, to infer differences between consumption and processing.VanDerwarker’s (2006, 2010) work probably represents the most systematic treatment ondata quantification inMesoamerican paleoethnobotany.Miksicek (1991) employed a codingsystem to facilitate wood identification at Cuello in northern Belize, an approach that couldpossibly help document species diversity in situations where species themselves cannot beidentified. Mesoamerican paleoethnobotanists are also carefully documenting the morpho-logical variability of maize remains recovered, not only to help identify the possible types ofmaize present but also to address social processes via statistical measures of assemblagevariability and diversity (Benz and Iltis 1990; Benz 1994, 1999; Lentz 1991; McKillop1994;Miksicek et al. 1981;Morehart 2011;Morehart and Eisenberg 2010; Rust and Leyden1994; Turkon 2006; Villa Kamel et al. 2003).

The identification of more diverse forms of plant remains is perhaps one of the mostsignificant areas for social paleoethnobotany. Most archaeobotanical research centers on theanalysis of seeds and fruit remains. Although challenging, the identification of woodcharcoal can reveal new dimensions of human–environmental interaction (see Adriano-Morán and McClung de Tapia 2008; Hockaday and Lentz 2009; Lentz 1991; Lentz et al.1996a; Lentz et al. 1997; Miksicek 1991; Morehart 2011; Morehart et al. 2005; Robinsonand McKillop 2013; Smart and Hoffman 1988; Trabanino et al. 2012; Wyatt 2008).Advances in micro-floral research have proved instrumental in studying the origins ofdomestication and agriculture in Mesoamerica (e.g., Jones 1994; Perry and Flannery2007; Piperno et al. 2009; Pohl et al. 1996; Pohl et al. 2007; Pope et al. 2001; Ranereet al. 2009; Rust and Leyden 1994). The study of starches, phytoliths, and pollen from soilsamples or residues from vessels and activity areas also offers the potential to documentmicro-level human practices beyond the reach of macrofloral remains (Abramiuk et al.2011; Bozarth and Guderjan 2004; González Quintero 1986; King 2003; McNeil 2006a;


Meléndez Guadarrama et al. 2013; Morehart 2011; Morell-Hart 2011; Perry and Flannery2007; Piperno et al. 2009; Ranere et al. 2009; Rue et al. 1989; Sheets et al. 2011; Sheetset al. 2012; Simms et al. 2012; Wyatt et al. 2012). The application of chemical analysis toresidues on artifacts has been employed to identify possible incense (Morehart 2011; Staceyet al. 2006), maize consumption (Seinfeld et al. 2009), and the presence of cacao on ceramicvessels (Hall et al. 1990; Henderson et al. 2007; Hurst et al. 1989, 2002; Powis et al. 2002,2011; Prufer and Hurst 2007; Soleri et al. 2013).

Expanding the spectrum of botanical data is part of a broader process toward increasedarchaeological data integration, one of the most important areas where paleoethnobotanistscan move beyond the ecofact. Paleoethnobotanists are dependent on other archaeologicalremains to establish chronology and context, and virtually all the studies presented abovefollow this path in some way. But more paleoethnobotanists in Mesoamerica are directlyincorporating other lines of data into their work on human–plant interactions. Hanselka(2011) integrated macrobotanical materials (some from curated collections) with settlementpattern analysis, ecological survey, and ethnographic and ethnohistoric evidence to devisemodels of human–plant interactions. VanDerwarker (2006, 2010) integrated macro-floralremains with both faunal remains and stable isotopic data. VanDerwarker and Peres (2010)edited a highly useful volume on methods toward integrating paleoethnobotany andzooarchaeology. Morehart and Helmke (2008) examined patterns of co-variation in woodconsumption practices and artifactual evidence for weaving, namely the distribution ofspindle whorls. Turkon (2004) and Rust and Leyden (1994) compare various indices ofconsumption and production using both artifactual and archaeobotanical data. Morell-Hart(2011), Morehart (2011), and Simms et al. (2012) studied microfloral remains from artifactsurfaces specifically to clarify artifact function.

Additional Pathways Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany: Materiality, Gender,Knowledge, and Scale

Although we have stressed studies of political ecology, ritual, and methodology, manyfuture paths exist for social paleoethnobotany. Studies on the ritual use of plants, forexample, open the door to issues of materiality and even object-oriented approaches tothe past. By examining the meanings associated with plants used during rituals,paleoethnobotanists are well positioned to consider the unique biographies of botanicalresources. These biographies are easily ignored when archaeologists treat plant remainsexclusively as indices of ancient diet or environmental adaptation. Rather than mereecofacts, plant remains are artifacts with rich histories. McNeil’s (2006a, b) research oncacao, Morehart et al.’s (2005) examination of pine, and Montúfar López’ (2006)analyses of a range of floral offerings inform us on the unique life histories of the plantworld and offer interpretive strategies to undertake such endeavors.

To document people as active participants in their social and political worlds requiresa more contextual approach, the recognition of variation within and between householdsand other sites, and often more fine-grained forms of data. Goldstein and Hageman(2009) suggest that we can use plant remains to disentangle the structural models thatshaped food and meals. Employing linguistic models of paradigmatic and syntag-matic practice, Morell-Hart (2011) takes this approach further to examine uniquecultural logics underlying commensality and their dynamic relationship with daily


activities. Her work shows how past people made fine-grained decisions about foodpreparation not only to follow convention but also to negotiate social relationships.

Although many of the studies presented here address transformations or persistencein the use of plants, future studies could examine how plants themselves transform orreinforce meaning. Given that plants are components of ritual practice, arguments can bemade for plants as nonhuman agents—not just as receptacles of meaning but as activeconstituents in the creation of meaning (e.g., Rival 1998; see also Brown and Emery2008; Brown and Walker 2008). Plants occupy spaces that other material objects do not(food, intoxicants, fuel, incense, etc.), and the deliberate inclusion of plants in socialpractices signals their active, and potentially transformative, role.

Published studies that specifically treat gender in ancient Mesoamerica from apaleoethnobotanical perspective are scarce. In an edited volume on gender in archaeology,Morehart and Helmke (2008) studied archaeobotanical remains from two sites in westernBelize, Pook’s Hill, a high status plaza group, and Chan Noohol, a small community offarmsteads. They analyzed the distribution of wood charcoal to place doubt on assumptions ofuniversal gender roles and to question the biases inherent in ethnographic data. They reject theidea that particular genders necessarily undertook particular tasks, such as collecting firewood.Instead, they argue that household members’ labor and the nature of ecological knowledgedepended on how the household was embedded in a broader political economy.

This dearth of paleoethnobotanical research on gender is surprising for three basicreasons. First, there is a rich archaeological literature on gender in ancient Mesoamerica(e.g., Ardren 2008; Brumfiel and Robin 2008; Joyce 2000). Although some treatments ofancient gender in Mesoamerica have mentioned plant remains, archaeobotanical data aretypically secondary or tertiary in importance (e.g., Clark and Blake 1994). Second, modelsof how to examine gender paleoethnobotanically already exist. Hastorf’s (1991) classicarticle of imperial conquest, foodways, and gender in the Andes represents not just thecanonical study of plant remains and gender but is also a key paper that pushedpaleoethnobotany toward social archaeology. Third, ethnographic and ethnohistoric de-scriptions of gendered behavior suggest distinctive aspects of plant management, produc-tion, processing, and consumption are often gendered. However, variations in theseaccounts resist efforts to suggest ahistorical gender roles existed (e.g., Ardren 2008;Brumfiel and Robin 2008; Joyce 2000; Brumfiel 2006). Given such a multitude ofarchaeological studies, paleoethnobotanical research on gender is doable andmust be done.

The intricate study of ecological and botanical knowledge is a pervasive strength inMesoamerican paleoethnobotany and provides a thread that connects many works.Reconstructing past environmental knowledge also articulates the social paleoethnobo-tanical research discussed previously with studies focused on more descriptive accountsof subsistence and ecological adaptation. Paleoethnobotanists in Mesoamerica havedocumented complex forms of ethnobotanical knowledge and practice involving di-verse taxonomic assemblages, such as arboriculture, forest management, the cultivationof root crops, and the strategic adaptation to diverse habitats by single settlements (e.g.,Beltrán Frias 1987; Cliff and Crane 1989; Crane 1996; González Quintero 1999;Hanselka 2011; Hather and Hammond 1994; Houston 1983; Lentz 1990, 1999; Lentzet al. 1996a, b, 2012; Meléndez Guadarrama et al. 2013; McClung de Tapia andAguilar Hernández 2000; McClung de Tapia et al. 1986; McClung de Tapia andMartínez Yrizar 2005; McKillop 1994, 1996; McNeil et al. 2010; Miksicek 1983,1986, 1990, 1991; Morehart 2003, 2011; Morehart and Eisenberg 2010; Parsons et al.


1985; Popper 1995; Sheets et al. 2012; Trabanino et al. 2012; Turner and Miksicek 1984;VanDerwarker 2005, 2006, 2010; Wyatt 2012; Wyatt et al. 2012).

These studies allow archaeologists to go beyond whatWobst (1978) referred to as the“tyranny of the ethnographic record,” an exclusive reliance on ethnographic andethnohistoric analogies to reconstruct the past (see also Conkey and Spector 1984: p.13). This approach can lead to what Sluyter (2005) referred to as “recentism” whenemployed to reconstruct past environments and ecological knowledge. The applicationof ethnographic analogy unevaluated by archaeobotanical data, limits archaeologists’ability to document change—a “continuity-centric” perspective (Morehart and Helmke2008: p. 62) that posits the environmental practices produced via centuries of conquest,Colonialism, national marginalization, and progressively global neoliberal policies andstrategies as transhistorical models across space and time. There exist “systematicvariations in the knowledge available to and taken up by various social groups set inparticular regions and times” (Thrift 1985: p. 397). As a historical discipline,paleoethnobotanical projects on past systems of environmental knowledge directlyrespond to Nabhan et al.’s (2011: p. 1) recent criticism that “ethnobiologists havecontinued to describe the communities in which they work in some harmonious‘ethno-ecological present.’” They offer an unparalleled opportunity to historicize re-search on traditional ecological knowledge. Rather than romanticize the past andvalorize concepts like indigeneity, tradition, and culture, paleoethnobotanists documentvariation over time and space, including successes, failures, and, significantly, theimpact of political economic transformations on ethnobiological and ecological knowl-edge and practice. By inserting history and, hence, material reality, into environmentalresearch, these scholars contribute directly to historical ecology’s aims to understandsustainability, resourcefulness, and resilience and to apply archaeological knowledge tocontemporary crises and challenges.

Continued research on environmental change and subsistence economies also mustaddress the effect of scale on paleoethnobotanical investigations. Scale—spatial, tem-poral, and social—infuences our interpretations in several significant ways and raises anumber of important questions. How generalizable are paleoethnobotanical interpreta-tions? Although much social paleoethnobotany attempts to stress variation, a continuedrisk exists that findings will be used to reinforce temporally static depictions of pastsociety, particularly with work on ritual and gender. It is possible to over-particularizeone’s case study and conclusions, preventing the understanding of long-term andwidespread trends in organization, thought, and practice. How can micro-level andpractice-based approaches on plant use be integrated into macro-level socio-politicaland environmental histories?

This challenge highlights the notion of the “ecological fallacy” in environmentalresearch. Environmental studies increasingly incorporate several lines of data that existat varying spatial and temporal scales, from global climatological information to ethno-graphic and historical records to archaeological material. The fallacy lies in the assumptionthat data operate similarly regardless of scale (Harris 2006). One correction to this fallacyis to recognize that data and the scale of interest are conditioned by specific researchquestions. Thus, for example, the internal structure of food processing behavior may behighly relevant to understanding household and community structure, even in response tobroader changes in a social, political, or ecological milieu. But such details may be lessrelevant for a study seeking to reconstruct historical or evolutionary changes over several


centuries or more. Quantitatively altering the scale of analysis and interpretation, generatesnew questions by changing the spatial or temporal unit’s qualitative capacity to convey(and contain) information.

A social paleoethnobotanical perspective offers a related caution. Given thatarchaeobotanical remains are remnants of socially determined behavior, what limitationsexist in using these data to produce accurate large-scale environmental reconstructions? Atwhat point does the socially fragmented and culturally contingent nature of peoples’relationships with the botanical world become generalizable enough to characterize entireregions and their shifts over time? This challenge is especially pronounced in studies ofecological change and deterioration. Frequently, such research offers interpretations ofenvironmental data without corresponding theories of behavior [see, for exception, Robin-son and McKillop (2013) application of behavioral ecology to archaeobotany in the MayaLowlands] or ignores the cultural and historical factors governing and mediating plant use.Addressing these issues is critical, considering the importance of plants across all aspects oflife. With more social paleoethnobotany, these questions can be better considered andintegrated into the fabric of interpretations.

In order to create common threads between the works we discuss, we deliberately didnot partition off the archaeological study of food. Obviously, however, several of thestudies we discuss involve the social, political, and economic dimensions of foodways.Archaeologists study food as an active component to past life (e.g., Dietler and Hayden2001; Gosden and Hather 1999; Hastorf 1991; Hastorf and Johannessen 1993; LeCount2002; Twiss 2012; van der Veen 2003). Food “achieves more than the satisfaction ofdietary needs, it is a rich source of insight into many aspects of cultural life” (Hastorf andJohannessen 1993: p. 115). Due to the intimate and diverse ways in which food isintegrated into our lives as a source of subsistence and strategy, the analysis of foodpractices offers particular insight into understanding social dynamics. Thus, socialpaleoethnobotanical projects included in this essay examine the cultural, political, andeconomic factors that shaped the production, exchange, and consumption of food(Goldstein and Hageman 2009; Lentz 1991; McClung de Tapia 1977; McNeil 2009;Morehart and Butler 2010; Morehart and Eisenberg 2010; Morell-Hart 2011; Turkon2004, 2006; VanDerwarker 2006). One of the critical aspects of food practices is theirsymbolic capacity (Weismantel 1988). Foodways are incorporated into the multivocalictrajectories through which people habitually and forcefully negotiate their positions insociety. Food practices can become markers of social identities such that people who eatstrikingly different foods or similar foods in strikingly different ways are thought to bestrikingly different (Mintz 1985: p. 3). Thus, the same processes whereby socialidentities are forged also can polarize and engender conflict (Weismantel 1988: p. 10).Following the initial work by Goldstein and Hageman (2009) and Morell-Hart (2011),future paleoethnobotanical research in Mesoamerica can study contextual variation inbotanical assemblages to document the use of food in the strategic definition of socialidentities and boundaries.

Conclusion

This article has presented a synthesis of current research on social paleoethnobotany inMesoamerica. In recognizing plants as artifacts, not simply as ecofacts, paleoethnobotanists


are positioned to contribute to several major themes of social archaeology. Many studieshave focused principally on patterns of change in subsistence economies and in human–environmental interactions. Complementary to these studies, new paleoethnobotanicalinvestigations have focused on the domains of power, agency, and normative constraintsby asking questions about political ecology and ritual. Sampling and data quantification areessential to address social archaeological questions, and paleoethnobotanists increasinglycollaborate with archaeologists or, as archaeologists, now undertake their own fieldprojects. The studies we presented offer insights on how to approach and analyze botanicalassemblages quantitatively and reveal great strides in documenting diverse forms of plantremains, such as woods, starches, pollen, phytoliths, and residues. Integratingarchaeobotanical datasets with other forms of archaeological remains expands the rangeof issues paleoethnobotanists can address and, moreover, further pushes scientists beyondthe ecofact.

Although the majority of social paleoethnobotany in Mesoamerica has centered onpolitical ecology and ritual symbolism, a social archaeological perspective should beintellectually transformative and cause paleoethnobotanists to reflect upon the nature oftheir research and the scope of their interpretive frameworks. By reconstructing theunique social biographies of the botanical world, paleoethnobotanists can address theintersecting materialities, temporalities, and socialities that people and plants co-occupy.Paleoethnobotanical investigations of social organization need to more explicitly targetthe changing role of gender relations in the past. Archaeobotanical datasets documentingpast systems of environmental practice reveal variability in time and space, allowingarchaeologists to move beyond ethnographic analogy and demonstrate how past peoplestrategically responded to shifts in the social, political, economic, and ecological fabric.Such investigations also may have implications for public policy (see Minnis 1985,1991; Morell-Hart 2012). Methodologically, these emergent research agendas mustexamine how the scale of research questions and interpretations mesh with the physicalcharacteristics of datasets. By doing so, archaeologists and paleoethnobotanists canbetter work together to produce compelling narratives of the past across different scalesof time and space.

Any effort to recover, identify, and interpret plant remains from archaeologicalsites has intrinsic merit, considering the enormous role plants played in past lifeways.But increased focus on power, ritual, gender, knowledge, and scale is transformingthe field of paleoethnobotany, and this essay synthesizes this movement in Meso-america. As protocols and techniques improve and data recovery increases, so toomust sampling strategies and theoretical approaches be more finely attenuated to theMesoamerican landscape. Only by training more paleoethnobotanists can we appre-ciate the full spectrum of human–plant interaction in the Mesoamerican past andpresent.

Acknowledgments This paper developed via a long conversation between the two authors and severalpaleoethnobotanists who have established the field and demonstrated its application to social archaeologicaltopics. We would like to acknowledge foremost individuals who have provided guidance and mentorship to usover the years, especially David Lentz, Emily McClung de Tapia, Christine Hastorf, Dolores Piperno, EmilioIbarra Morales, Cristina Adriano-Morán, Diana Martínez Yrizar, and David Goldstein. We also are grateful toDeborah Pearsall, whose canonical text, Paleoethnobotany: A Handbook of Procedures, has long occupied acherished place on our shelves. We greatly appreciate the instruction provided by the editors of the Journal ofArchaeological Method and Theory as well as the comments of Amber VanDerwarker and anonymous


reviewers. Megan Parker and Cristal Bender assisted in compiling the bibliography. Omissions or erroneousinterpretations of the studies we review are our responsibility.

References

Adriano-Morán, C., & McClung de Tapia, E. (2008). Trees and shrubs: the use of wood in prehispanicTeotihuacan. Journal of Archaeological Science, 35, 2927–2936.

Alcorn, J. (1984). Huastec Maya ethnobotany. Austin: University of Texas Press.Abramiuk, M., Dunham, P., Cummings, L., Yost, C., & Pesek, T. (2011). Linking past and present: a preliminary

paleoethnobotanical study of Maya plant use in Belize. Ethnobotany Research and Applications, 9, 257–273.Ardren, T. (2008). Studies of gender in the Prehispanic Americas. Journal of Archaeological Research, 16,

1–35.Armillas, P. (1979). Las etapas adoptadas para el programa de historia de América. Nueva Antropología,

12, 49–52.Atran, S., & Ucan Ek’, E. (1999). Classification of useful plants by the northern Petén Maya (Itzaj). In C. D.

White (Ed.), Reconstructing Ancient Maya diet (pp. 19–59). Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.Balée, W. (2006). The research program of historical ecology. Annual Review of Anthropology, 35, 75–98.Balée, W., & Erickson, C. (Eds.). (2006). Time and complexity in historical ecology: studies in the

neotropical lowlands. New York: Columbia University Press.Barrera Marin, A., Barrera Vazquez, A., & Franco, R. M. L. (1976). Nomenclatura etnobotánica Maya: Una

Interpretación Taxonómica (Coleccion Cientifica 36). Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia.Barrera Rivera, J. A., De Lourdes Gallardo Parrodi, M., & Montúfar López, A. (2001). La ofrenda 102 del

Templo Mayor. Arqueología Mexicana, 8, 70–77.Barton, C. M., Bernabeu, J., Aura, J. E., Garcia, O., Schmich, S., &Molina, L. (2004). Long-term socioecology

and contingent landscapes. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 11(3), 253–295.Bell, C. (1992). Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice. Oxford: University Press.Beltrán Frias, L. (1987). Subsistencia y aprovechamiento del medio. In L. Manzanilla (Ed.), Coba,

Quintana Roo: Análisis de Dos Unidades Habitacionales Mayas (pp. 213–232). Mexico City:Universidad Nacional Autónoma.

Benz, B. F. (1994). Reconstructing racial phylogeny of Mexican maize: Where do we stand. In S.Johannessen & C. A. Hastorf (Eds.), Corn and culture in the Prehistoric New World (pp. 157–179).Boulder: Westview Press.

Benz, B. F. (1999). Estudios morfológicos del maíz de Tula, Tepetitlán. In R. H. Cobean & A. GuadalupeMastache (Eds.), Tepetitlán: Un espacio domestic rural en el area de Tula (pp. 158–169). Mexico:Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Historia.

Benz, B., Lopez Mestas, C., Lorenza, F., & Ramos De La Vega, J. (2006). Organic offerings, paper, andfibers from the Huitzilapa shaft tomb, Jalisco, Mexico. Ancient Mesoamerica, 17(2), 283–296.

Benz, B. F., & Iltis, H. H. (1990). Studies in archaeological maize: the wild maize from San-Marcos Cavere-examined. American Antiquity, 55(3), 500–511.

Berlin, B., Breedlove, D., & Raven, P. H. (1974). Principles of Tzeltal plant classification: an introduction tothe botanical ethnography of a Mayan-speaking people of Highland Chiapas. NewYork: Academic Press.

Blaikie, P., & Brookfield, H. C. (1987). Land degradation and society. London: Methuen.Bogaard, A., Charles, M., Twiss, K. C., Fairbairn, A., Nurcan, Y., Filipovic, D., Demirergi, G. A., Ertug, F.,

Russell, N., & Henecke, J. (2009). Private pantries and celebrated surplus: storing and sharing food atNeolithic Catalhoyuk, Central Anatolia. Antiquity, 83, 649–668.

Bohrer, V., & Adams, K. (1977). Ethnobotanical techniques and approaches at Salmon Ruin, New Mexico(Contributions in Anthropology, Vol. 8, No. 1). Portales: Eastern New Mexico University.

Bozarth, S. R., & Guderjan, T. H. (2004). Biosilicate analysis of residue in Maya dedicatory cache vesselsfrom Blue Creek, Belize. Journal of Archaeological Science, 31(2), 205–215.

Brady, J. E. (1995). A reassessment of the chronology and function of Gordon’s Cave #3, Copan,Honduras. Ancient Mesoamerica, 6, 29–38.

Brady, J. E., & Prufer, K. M. (2005). In the Maw of the earth monster: studies of Mesoamerican ritual caveuse. Austin: University of Texas Press.

Breedlove, D. E., & Hopkins, N. (1971). A study of Chuj (Mayan) plants, with notes on their uses. III. TheWasmann Journal of Biology, 29, 189–205.


Breedlove, D. E., & Laughlin, R. M. (1993). The flowering of man: a Tzotzil botany of Zinacantan.Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.

Brown, L. A., & Emery, K. F. (2008). Negotiations with the animate forest: hunting shrines in theGuatemalan Highlands. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 15, 300–337.

Brown, L. A., & Walker, W. (2008). Prologue: archaeology, animism and non-human agents. Journal ofArchaeological Method and Theory, 15, 297–299.

Brumfiel, E. M. (1992). Breaking and entering the ecosystem: gender, class, and faction steal the show.American Anthropologist, 94(3), 551–567.

Brumfiel, E. M. (2005). Production and power at Postclassic Xaltocan. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional deAntropologia e Historia.

Brumfiel, E. M. (2006). Gender, cloth, continuity and change: fabricating unity in anthropology. AmericanAnthropologist, 108, 861–877.

Brumfiel, E. M., & Robin, C. (2008). Gender, households, and society: unraveling the threads of the pastand the present. Archeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association 18.

Carr, H. (1996). Precolumbian Maya exploitation and management of deer populations. In S. L. Fedick(Ed.), The managed mosaic: ancient Maya agriculture and resource use (pp. 251–261). Salt Lake City:University of Utah Press.

Clark, J. E., & Blake, M. (1994). The power of prestige: competitive generosity and the emergence of ranksocieties in lowland Mesoamerica. In E. M. Brumfiel & J. W. Fox (Eds.), Factional competition andpolitical development in the New World (pp. 17–30). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cliff, M. B., & Crane, C. (1989). Changing Maya subsistence economy at a Late Preclassic Mayacommunity. In P. A. McAnany & B. L. Isaac Prehistoric (Eds.), Maya economies of Belize. Researchin economic anthropology (Vol. 4, pp. 295–324). Greenwich: JAI Press.

Conkey, M., & Spector, J. (1984). Archaeology and the study of gender. In M. Schiffer (Ed.), Advances inarchaeological method and theory (Vol. 7, pp. 1–38). New York: Academic Press.

Coyston, S., White, C. D., & Schwarcz, H. P. (1999). Dietary carbonate analysis of bone and enamel fortwo sites in Belize. In C. D. White (Ed.), Reconstructing ancient Maya diet (pp. 221–244). Salt LakeCity: University of Utah Press.

Crane, C. (1996). Archaeobotanical and palynological research at a late preclassic Maya community,Cerros, Belize. In S. L. Fedick (Ed.), The managed mosaic: ancient Maya agriculture and resourceuse. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

Crane, C., & Carr, H. S. (1994). The integration and quantification of economic data from a Late PreclassicMaya community in Belize. In D. Sobolik (Ed.), Paleonutrition: the diet and health of prehistoricAmericans (pp. 66–79). Occasional Paper No. 22. Carbondale: Center for Archaeological Investiga-tions, Southern Illinois University.

Crumley, C. (1994). Historical ecology: a multidimensional ecological orientation. In C. Crumley (Ed.),Historical ecology: cultural knowledge and changing landscapes (pp. 1–16). Santa Few: School ofAmerican Research Press.

D’Altroy, T. N., & Earle, T. K. (1985). Staple finance, wealth finance, and storage in the Inka politicaleconomy. Current Anthropology, 26(2), 187–206.

Demarest, A. (2002). Comments to the social life of pre-Sunrise things: indigenous Mesoamericanarchaeology. Current Anthropology, 43, 371–372.

Denevan, W. (1992). The pristine myth: the landscape of the Americas in 1492. Annals of the Association ofAmerican Geographers, 82, 369–385.

Dietler, M., & Hayden, B. (2001). Feasts: archaeological and ethnographic perspectives on food, politics,and power. Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press.

Douglas, M. (1970). Deciphering a meal. Daedalus, 101, 61–81.Earle, T. K. (1997). How chiefs come to power: the political economy in prehistory. Palo Alto: Stanford

University Press.Emery, K. F. (2003). The noble beast: status and differential access to animals in the Maya world. World

Archaeology, 34, 498–515.Erickson, C. L. (2006). Intensification, political economy, and the farming community: in defense of a

bottom-up perspective of the past. In J. Marcus & C. Stanish (Eds.), Agricultural strategies (pp. 233–265). Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology.

Escobar, A. (1999). After nature: steps to an antiessentialist political ecology. Current Anthropology, 40(1),1–30.

Feinman, G. (2006). The economic underpinnings of prehispanic Zapotec civilization: small-scale produc-tion, economic interdependence, and market exchange. In J. Marcus & C. Stanish (Eds.), Agriculturalstrategies (pp. 255–280). Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute.


Feinman, G. M., & Nicholas, L. M. (2004). Archaeological perspectives on political economy. Salt LakeCity: University of Utah Press.

Flores, J. S., & Balam, J. K. (1997). Importance of plants in the Ch’a Chaak Maya ritual in the peninsula ofYucatan. Journal of Ethnobiology, 17, 97–108.

Gerry, J. P. (1997). Bone isotope ratios and their bearing on elite privilege among the Classic Maya.Geoarchaeology, 12(1), 41–69.

Goldstein, D., & Hageman, J. (2009). Power plants: paleobotanical evidence of rural feasting in LateClassic Belize. In J. Staller & M. Carrasco (Eds.), Pre-Columbian foodways: interdisciplinary ap-proaches to food, culture, and markets in ancient Mesoamerica (pp. 421–440). New York: Springer.

Gómez-Pompa, A., & Kaus, A. (1990). Traditional management of tropical forests in Mexico. In A.Anderson (Ed.), Alternatives to deforestation: steps toward sustainable use of the Amazon rain forest(pp. 45–64). New York: Columbia University Press.

González Quintero, L. (1986). Contribuciones al conocimiento arqueobotánico de la Cuenca del Valle deMéxico. Cuaderno de Trabajo 3. Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

González Quintero, L. (1999). Análisis de los restos vegetales. In R. H. Cobean & A. Guadalupe Mastache(Eds.), Tepetitlán: Un espacio domestic rural en el area de Tula (pp. 140–147). Mexico: InstitutoNacional de Antropología y Historia.

Gosden, C., & Hather, J. (1999). The prehistory of food: appetites for change. New York: Routledge.Hageman, J., & Goldstein, D. (2009). An integrated assessment of archaeobotanical recovery methods in

the Neotropical rainforest of northern Belize: flotation and dry screening. Journal of ArchaeologicalScience, 36, 2841–2852.

Hall, G. D., Tarka, S., Hurst, W. J., Stuart, D., & Adams, R. E. W. (1990). Cacao residues in ancient Mayavessels from Rio Azul, Guatemala. American Antiquity, 55, 138–143.

Hamann, B. (2002). The social life of pre-Sunrise things: indigenous Mesoamerican archaeology. CurrentAnthropology, 43, 351–382.

Hanselka, J. K. (2011). Prehistoric Plant Procurement, Food Production, and Land Use in SouthwesternTamaulipas, Mexico. Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Washington University

Harris, T. M. (2006). Scale as artifact; GIS, ecological fallacy, and archaeological analysis. In G. Lock & B.Molyneaux (Eds.), Confronting scale in archaeology: issues of theory and practice (pp. 39–54). NewYork: Springer.

Hastorf, C. A. (1991). Gender, space, and food in prehistory. In J. M. Gero & M. W. Conkey (Eds.),Engendering archaeology: women and prehistory (pp. 132–159). Oxford: Basil Blakwell.

Hastorf, C. A. (1999). Recent research in paleoethnobotany. Journal of Archaeological Research, 7(1), 55–103.

Hastorf, C. A., & Johannessen, S. (1993). Pre-hispanic political change and the role of maize in the centralAndes of Peru. American Anthropologist, 95, 115–138.

Hastorf, C. A., & Popper, P. (1988). Current paleoethnobotany: analytical methods and cultural interpre-tations of archaeological plant remains. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Hather, J., & Hammond, N. (1994). Ancient Maya subsistence diversity: root and tuber remains fromCuello, Belize. Antiquity, 68, 330–335.

Hegmon, M. (2003). Setting theoretical egos aside: issues and theory in North American Archaeology.American Antiquity, 68, 213–243.

Henderson, J., Joyce, R., Hall, G., Hurst, W. J., & McGovern, P. E. (2007). Chemical and archaeologicalevidence for the earliest cacao beverages. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of USA,104, 18937–18940.

Hirth, K. (1996). Political economy and archaeology: perspectives on exchange and production. Journal ofArchaeological Research, 4, 203–239.

Hockaday, B., & Lentz, D. L. (2009). Tikal timbers and temples: ancient Maya agroforestry and the end oftime. Journal of Archaeological Science, 36(7), 1342–1353.

Hodder, I. (2007). Symbolic and structural archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.Hodder, I., & Hutson, S. (2003). Reading the past: current approaches to interpretation in archaeology.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.Houston, M. (1983). Paleoethnobotany of Oaxaca, Mexico. PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropol-

ogy, University of North Carolina, Chapel HillHurst, W. J., Martin, R., Tarka, S., & Hall, G. (1989). Authentication of cacao in ancient Maya vessels using

HPLC techniques. Journal of Chromatography, 466, 279–289.Hurst, W. J., Tarka, S., Powis, T., Valdez, F., & Hester, T. (2002). Cacao usage by the earliest Maya

civilization. Nature, 418, 289–290.Johnson, M. (2010). Archaeological theory: an introduction. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.


Johnson, A., & Earle, T. K. (2000). The evolution of human societies: from foraging group to agrarianstate. Palo Alto: Stanford University Press.

Jones, J. G. (1994). Pollen evidence for early settlement and agriculture in northern Belize. Palynology,18(1), 205–211.

Joyce, R. A. (2000). Gender and power in prehispanic Mesoamerica. Austin: University of Texas Press.King, S. M. (2003). Social practices and social organization in ancient coastal Oaxacan households. Ph.D.

Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of California, BerkeleyKing, S. M. (2008). The spatial organization of food sharing in Early Postclassic households: an application

of soil chemistry in Ancient Oaxaca, Mexico. Journal of Archaeological Science, 35, 1224–1239.Kirchoff, P. (1943). Mesoamérica: sus límites geográficas, composición étnica y caracteres culturales. Acta

Americana, 1, 92–107.Latour, B. (2004). Politics of nature: how to bring the sciences into democracy. Cambridge: Harvard

University Press.LeCount, L. J. (2002). Like water for chocolate: feasting and political ritual among the Late Classic Maya at

Xunantunich, Belize. American Anthropologist, 4, 935–953.Lennstrom, H., & Hastorf, C. A. (1992). Testing old wives’ tales in palaeoethnobotany: a comparison of

bulk and scatter sampling schemes from Pancán, Peru. Journal of Archaeological Science, 19(2), 205–229.

Lennstrom, H., & Hastorf, C. A. (1995). Interpretation in context: sampling and analysis inpaleoethnobotany. American Anthropologist, 60, 701–721.

Lentz, D. L. (1990). Acrocomia mexicana: palm of the ancient Mesoamericans. Journal of Ethnobiology,10, 183–194.

Lentz, D. L. (1991). Maya diets of the rich and poor: paleoethnobotanical evidence from Copan. LatinAmerican Antiquity, 2(3), 269–287.

Lentz, D. L. (1999). Plant resources of the ancient Maya: the paleoethnobotanical evidence. In C. White(Ed.), Reconstructing ancient Maya diet (pp. 3–18). Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

Lentz, D. L. (Ed.). (2000). Imperfect balance: landscape transformations in the Precolumbian Americas.New York: Columbia University Press.

Lentz, D. L., Beaudry-Corbett, M. P., de Aguilar, M. L. R., & Kaplan, L. (1996a). Foodstuffs, forests,fields, and shelter: a paleoethnobotanical analysis of vessel contents from the Ceren site, El Salvador.Latin American Antiquity, 7(3), 247–262.

Lentz, D. L., de Aguilar, M. L. R., Villacorta, R., & Marini, H. (1996b). Trachypogon plumosus (Poaceae,Andropogoneae): Ancient Thatch and More from the Cerén Site, El Salvador. Economic Botany, 50,108–114.

Lentz, D. L., Ramírez, C. R., & Griscom, B. W. (1997). Formative-period subsistence and forest-productextraction at the Yarumela site, Honduras. Ancient Mesoamerica, 8(1), 63–74.

Lentz, D. L., Woods, S., Hood, A., & Murph, M. (2012). Agroforestry and agricultural production of theancient Maya at the Chan Site. In C. Robin (Ed.), Chan: an ancient Maya farming community in Belize(pp. 89–110). Gainesville: University Press of Florida.

Lentz, D. L., Yaeger, J., Robin, C., & Ashmore, W. (2005). Pine, prestige and politics of the Late ClassicMaya at Xunantunich, Belize. Antiquity, 79(305), 573.

López Luján, L. (1993). Las ofrendas del Tempo Mayor de Tenochtitlán. Mexico: Instituto Nacional deAntropología e Historia.

Lopez Lujan, L., Torres, J., & Montúfar López, A. (2003). Tierra, piedra y madera para el Templo Mayor deTenochtitlan. Arqueologia Mexicana, 11, 70–75.

Lopez Lujan, L., Torres, J., & Montúfar López, A. (2004). Los materiales constructivos del Templo Mayorde Tenochtitlan. Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl, 34, 137–168.

Lumbreras, L. G. (1984). La arqueología como ciencia social. Colección Investigaciones Casa de las. LaHabana: Colección Investigaciones Casa de las Américas.

McAnany, P. A. (1995). Living with the ancestors: kinship and kingship in ancient Maya society. Austin:University of Texas Press.

McClung de Tapia, E. (1977). Recientes estudios paleo-etnobotánicos en Teotihuacán, México. Anales deAntropología, 14, 49–61.

McClung de Tapia, E. (1980). Interpretación de restos botánicos procedentes de sitios arqueológicos.Anales de Antropología, 17, 149.

McClung de Tapia, E. (1985). Investigaciones arqueobotánicas en Mesoamérica y Centroamérica. Analesde Antropología, 22, 133–157.

McClung de Tapia, E. M., & Aguilar Hernández, B. A. (2000). Vegetation and plant use in PostclassicOtumba. Ancient Mesoamerica, 12, 113–125.


McClung de Tapia, E. M., Serra Puche, M. C., & Limon de Dyer, A. E. (1986). Formative lacustrineadaptation: botanical remains from Terremote-Tlaltenco, D.F., Mexico. Journal of Field Archaeology,13(1), 99–113.

McClung de Tapia, E. M., & Martínez Yrizar, D. (2005). Paleoethnobotanical evidence from PostclassicXaltocan. In E. Brumfiel (Ed.), Production and power at Postclassic Xaltocan (pp. 207–232). Mexico:Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

McGuire, R. H. (1992). A Marxist archaeology. San Diego: Academic Press.McKillop, H. (1994). Ancient Maya tree cropping: a viable subsistence adaptation for the island Maya.

Ancient Mesoamerica, 5, 129–140.McKillop, H. (1996). Prehistoric Maya use of native palms: archaeobotanical and ethnobotanical evidence.

In S. L. Fedick (Ed.), The managed Mosaic: ancient Maya agriculture and resource use (pp. 278–294).Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

McNeil, C. L. (2006a). Maya interactions with the natural world: Landscape transformation and ritualplant use at Copan, Honduras. Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, City University ofNew York.

McNeil, C. L. (2006b). Traditional cacao use in modern Mesoamerica. In C. McNeil (Ed.), Chocolate inMesoamerica: a cultural history of cacao (pp. 341–366). Gainesville: University of Florida Press.

McNeil, C. L. (2009). Death and chocolate: the significance of cacao offerings in ancient Maya tombs andcaches at Copan, Honduras. In J. Staller & M. Carrasco (Eds.), Pre-Columbian foodways: interdisci-plinary approaches to food, culture, and markets in ancient Mesoamerica (pp. 293–314). New York:Springer.

McNeil, C. L., Burney, D., & Pigot Burney, L. (2010). Evidence disputing deforestation as the cause for thecollapse of the ancient Maya polity of Copan, Honduras. Proceedings of the National Academy ofSciences of USA, 107(3), 1017–1022.

McNeil, C. L., Hurst, W., & Sharer, R. (2006). The use and representation of cacao during the classic periodat Copan, Honduras. In C. McNeil (Ed.), Chocolate in Mesoamerica: a cultural history of cacao (pp.224–252). Gainesville: University of Florida Press.

Meléndez Guadarrama, L., Trabanino, F., & Caballero Roque, A. (2013). Perspectivas en torno al usocomestible de las inflorescencias de las palmas Pacay(a) y Chapay(a) en Chiapas, México: enfoquespaleoetnobotánico, nutrional y lingüístico. Estudios de Cultura Maya, 41, 175–199.

Meskell, L., & Preucel, R. (Eds.). (2007). A companion to social archaeology. Malden: Blackwell.Metzger, D. G., & Williams, G. E. (1966). Some procedures and results in the study of native categories:

Tzeltal "Firewood.". American Anthropologist, 68, 389–407.Miksicek, C. H. (1991). The natural and cultural landscape of Preclassic Cuello. In N. Hammond (Ed.),

Cuello: an early Maya community in Belize (pp. 70–84). New York: Cambridge University Press.Miksicek, C. (1983). Macrofloral remains in the Pulltrouser Area: Settlements and Fields. In BLTurner and

P Harrison (Eds.), Pulltrouser Swamp: Ancient Maya Habitat, Agriculture and Settlement in NorthernBelize: (pp. 94–104). Ausitn: University of Texas Press.

Miksicek, C. (1986). Paleobotanical Identifications. In A. Demarest (Ed.), The Archaeology of SantaLeticia and the Rise of Maya Civilization: (pp. 199–200). New Orleans, LA: Tulane University Press.

Miksicek, C. (1990). Early Wetland Agriculture in the Maya Lowlands: Clues from Preserved PlantRemains. In M. Pohl (Ed.) Ancient Maya Wetland Agriculture: Excavations on Albion Island, NorthernBelize: (pp. 295–312). Boulder: Westview Press.

Miksicek, C. H., Bird, R. M., Pickersgill, B., Donaghey, S., Cartwright, J., & Hammond, N. (1981).Preclassic lowland maize from Cuello, Belize. Nature, 289, 56–59.

Minnis, P. E. (1981). Seeds in archaeological sites: sources and some interpretive problems. AmericanAntiquity, 46, 143–151.

Minnis, P. E. (1985). Social adaptation to food stress: a prehistoric southwestern example. Chicago:University of Chicago Press.

Minnis, P. E. (1991). Famine foods of the northern American desert borderlands in historical context.Journal of Ethnobiology, 11(2), 231–257.

Mintz, S. (1985). Sweetness and power: the place of sugar in modern history. New York: Viking Press.Montúfar López, A. (1996). Estudio arqueobótanico en vasijas de la Ventilla, Teotihuacan. Revista

mexicana de estudios antropológicos, 42, 71–76.Montúfar López, A. (1998). Arquebotánica del centro ceremonial de Tenochtitlan. Arqueologia Mexicana,

6, 34–41.Montúfar López, A. (1999). Archaeobotanical study of the Caves II and III, Teotihuacan. Perspectives in

Human Biology, 4, 101–114.Montúfar López, A. (2001). El ahuehuete: árbol ritual prehispánico. Arqueología Mexicana, 9, 18.


Montúfar López, A. (2002). Ahuehuete: símbolo nacional. Arqueología Mexicana, 10, 66–69.Montúfar López, A. (2006). La Flora sagrada de Tenochtitlan: Propuesta para una nueva sala del Museo del

Templo Mayor. In L. López Luján, D. Carrasco, & L. Cué (Eds.), Arqueología e Historia del Centro deMéxico: Homenaje a Eduardo Matos Moctezuma (pp. 493–506). Mexico: Instituto Nacional deAntropología e Historia.

Montúfar López, A. (2007). Los copales mexicanos y la resina sagrada del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

Montúfar López, A. (2009a). Copal: resina sagrada, prehispánica y actual. In J. Broda (Ed.), Religiosapopular y cosmovisiones indígenas en la historia de México (pp. 373–388). Mexico: Instituto Nacionalde Antropología e Historia.

Montúfar López, A. (2009b). Rituales de apertura y cierre del temporal en Temalacatzingo, Guerrero. In J.Broda, A. Gámez Espinosa, & F. Báez-Jorge (Eds.), Cosmovisión mesoamericana y ritualidad agrícola:estudios interdisciplinarios y regionales. Pueba: Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla.

Morehart, C. T. (2003). Paleoethnobotany at Avila. In J. M. Ferguson, M. H. Oland, & M. Masson (Eds.),Belize Postclassic Project 2002: investigation of the shore settlements of Progresso Lagoon and SanEstevan (pp. 126–151). Albany: Institute for Mesoamerican Studies, University of Albany.

Morehart, C. T. (2005). Plants and caves in ancient Maya society. In K. M. Prufer & J. Brady (Eds.),Reconstructing Maya ritual and cosmology in the cave context (pp. 167–185). Boulder: University ofColorado Press.

(2010). The archaeology of farmscapes: production, place, and the materiality of landscape at PostclassicXaltocan, Mexico. Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Northwestern University

Morehart, C. T. (2011). Food, fire, and fragrance: a paleoethnobotanical perspective on Classic Maya caveritual (Vol. 2186). Oxford: BAR International.

Morehart, C. T., Awe, J. J., Mirro, M., Owen, V., & Helmke, C. G. (2004). Ancient textile remains fromBarton Creek Cave, Cayo District, Belize. Mexicon, 26, 50–56.

Morehart, C. T., & Butler, N. (2010). Ritual exchange and the fourth obligation: ancient Maya food offeringand the flexible materiality of ritual. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 16(3), 588–608.

Morehart, C. T., & Eisenberg, D. T. A. (2010). Prosperity, power, and change: modeling maize atPostclassic Xaltocan, Mexico. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, 29(1), 94–112.

Morehart, C.T., & Helmke, C. G. (2008). Situating power and locating knowledge: a paleoethnobotanicalperspective to Ancient Maya gender and social relations. In C. Robin & E. Brumfiel (Eds.), Gender,households, and society: unraveling the threads of the past and present (pp. 60–75). ArchaeologicalPapers of the American Anthropological Association, Vol. 18, No.1.

Morehart, C. T., Lentz, D. L., & Prufer, K. M. (2005). Wood of the gods: the ritual use of pine (Pinus spp.)by the ancient lowland Maya. Latin American Antiquity, 16(3), 255–274.

Morehart, C. T., Meza Peñaloza, A., Serrano Sánchez, C., McClung de Tapia, E., Ibarra Morales, E. (2012).Human sacrifice during the Epiclassic Period in the northern Basin of Mexico. In Press. LatinAmerican Antiquity.

Morell-Hart, S. (2011). Paradigms and syntagms of ethnobotanical practice in Pre-Hispanic NorthwesternHonduras. Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley

Morell-Hart, S. (2012). Foodways and resilience under apocalyptic conditions. Culture, Agriculture, Foodand Environment, 34(2), 161–171.

Morell-Hart, S. (2014). Paleoethnobotanical analysis, post-processing. In J. D’Alpoim Guedes, J. Marston,& C. Warinner (Eds.),Method and theory in paleoethnobotany. Boulder: University Press of Colorado.In press.

Nabhan, G. P., Chambers, K., Tecklin, D., Perramond, E., & Sheridan, T. (2011). Ethnobiology for adiverse world, defining new disciplinary trajectories: mixing political ecology with ethnobiology.Journal of Ethnobiology, 31(1), 1–3.

Nalda, E. (1990). ¿Qué es lo que define Mesoamérica? In La validez teórica del concepto Mesoamérica(pp. 11–20). 19th Mesa Redonda de la Sociedad Mexicana de Antropología. Colección Científica 198.

Palerm, A. (1980). Antropología y Marxismo. Mexico: Centro de Investigaciones y Estudios Superiores enAntropología Social.

Parsons, J. R., Parsons, M., Popper, P., & Taft, M. (1985). Chinampa agriculture and Aztec urbanization inthe Valley of Mexico. In I. Farrington (Ed.), Prehistoric intensive agriculture in the tropics (Vol. 232,pp. 49–96). Oxford: BAR International Series.

Patterson, T. (1999). The political economy of archaeology in the United States. Annual Review ofAnthropology, 28, 155–174.

Paulson, S., & Gezon, L. (Eds.). (2005). Political ecology across spaces, scales, and social groups. NewBrunswick: Rutgers University Press.


Paulson, S., Gezon, L., & Watts, M. (2005). Politics, ecologies, genealogies. In S. Paulson & L. Gezon(Eds.), Political ecology across spaces, scales, and social groups (pp. 17–37). New Brunswick:Rutgers University Press.

Paynter, R. (1989). The archaeology of equality and inequality. Annual Review of Anthropology, 18, 369–399.

Pearsall, D. M. (2000). Paleoethnobotany: a handbook of procedures. New York: Academic Press.Peet, R., & Watts, M. (Eds.). (1996). Liberation ecologies: environment, development and social move-

ment. London: Routledge.Perez Rodriguez, V. (2006). States and households: the social organization of terrace agriculture in

Postclassic Mixteca Alta, Oaxaca, Mexico. Latin American Antiquity, 17(1), 3–22.Perry, L., & Flannery, K. (2007). Precolumbian use of chili peppers in the Valley of Oaxaca, Mexico.

Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 104(29), 11905–11909.Piperno, D. R., Ranere, A. J., Holst, I., Iriarte, J., & Dickau, R. (2009). Starch grain and phytolith evidence

for early ninth millennium BP maize from the Central Balsas River Valley, Mexico. Proceedings of theNational Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 106(13), 5019–5024.

Pohl, M. D. (1994). Consumption and the state: the economics and politics of Maya meat eating. In E.Brumfiel (Ed.), The economic anthropology of the state. Monographs in Economic Anthropology, 11(pp. 121–149). Lanham: University Presses of America.

Pohl, M. D., Pope, K. O., Jones, J. G., Jacob, J. S., Piperno, D. R., DeFrance, S. D., Lentz, D. L., Gifford, J.A., Danforth, M. E., & Josserand, J. K. (1996). Early agriculture in the Maya lowlands. Latin AmericanAntiquity, 7(4), 355–372.

Pohl, M. D., Piperno, D. R., Pope, K. O., & Jones, J. G. (2007). Microfossil evidence for pre-Columbianmaize dispersals in the neotropics from San Andres, Tabasco, Mexico. Proceedings of the NationalAcademy of Sciences, 104(16), 6870–6875.

Pope, K. O., Pohl, M. D., Jones, J. G., Lentz, D. L., von Nagy, C., Vega, F. J., & Quitmyer, I. R. (2001).Origin and environmental setting of ancient agriculture in the lowlands of Mesoamerica. Science,292(5520), 1370–1373.

Popper, V. S. (1988). Selecting quantitative measurements in paleoethnobotany. In C. A. Hastorf & V. S.Popper (Eds.), Current paleoethnobotany: analytical methods and cultural interpretations of archae-ological plant remains (pp. 53–71). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

(1995). Nahua plant knowledge and chinampa farming in the Basin of Mexico: a Middle Postclassic casestudy. PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Michigan

Powis, T., Valdez, F., Hester, T., Hurst, W. J., & Tarka, S. (2002). Spouted vessels and cacao use among thePreclassic Maya. Latin American Antiquity, 13(1), 85–106.

Powis, T., Cyphers, A., Gaikwadc, N., Grivettic, L., & Cheonge, K. (2011). Cacao use and the San LorenzoOlmec. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of USA, 108(21), 8595–8600.

Preucel, R., & Meskell, L. (2007). Knowledges. In L. Meskell & R. Preucel (Eds.), A companion to socialarchaeology (pp. 3–24). Malden: Blackwell.

Prufer, K. M., & Hurst, W. (2007). Chocolate in the underworld space of death: cacao seeds from an earlyclassic mortuary cave. Ethnohistory, 54(2), 273–301.

Pyburn, K. A. (1998). Smallholders in the Maya lowlands: homage to a garden variety ethnographer.Human Ecology, 26(2), 267–286.

Ranere, A. J., Piperno, D. R., Holst, I., Dickau, R., & Iriarte, J. (2009). The cultural and chronologicalcontext of early Holocene maize and squash domestication in the Central Balsas River Valley, Mexico.Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 106, 514–518.

Rival, L. (Ed.) (1998) The social life of trees: anthropological perspectives on tree symbolism. Oxford: Berg.Renfrew, C., & Baun, P. (2000). Archaeology: theories, methods and practice. London: Thames and

Hudson.Robbins, P. (2012). Political ecology (2nd ed.). Malden: Wiley-Blackwell.Robinson, M., & McKillop, H. (2013). Ancient Maya wood selection and forest exploitation: a view from

the Paynes Creek salt works, Belize. Journal of Archaeological Science, 40, 3584–3595.Robin, C. (2006). Gender, farming, and long-term change. Current Anthropology, 47(3), 409–433.Rocheleau, D. (1999). Sustaining what for whom? Differences of interest within and between households.

In U. Hatch & M. E. Swisher (Eds.),Managed ecosystems: the Mesoamerican experience (pp. 31–47).Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Roseberry, W. (1989). Anthropologies and histories: essay in culture, history and political economy. NewBrunswick: Rutgers University Press.

Rosenwig, R. (2012). Materialism, mode of production, and a millennium of change in southern Mexico.Journal of Archaeological Method Theory, 19, 1–48.


Roys, R. (1965). Ritual of the Bacabs: A Book of Maya Encantations. Civilizations of the American IndianSeries No. 77. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.

Rue, D., Freter, A., & Ballinger, D. (1989). The caverns of Copan revisited: preclassic sites in the SesemilRiver Valley, Copan, Honduras. Journal of Field Archaeology, 16, 295–304.

Scarry, C. M. (1993). Agricultural risk and the development of the Moundville chiefdom. In S. M. Scarry(Ed.), Foraging and farming in the Eastern Woodlands (pp. 157–181). Gainesville: University Press ofFlorida.

Scarry, C. M., & Steponaitis, V. (1997). Between farmstead and center: the natural and social landscape ofMoundville. In K. J. Gremillion (Ed.), People, plants, and landscapes: studies in paleoethnobotany(pp. 102–122). Tuscalossa: University of Alabama Press.

Schele, L., & Mathews, P. (1998). The code of kings: the language of seven sacred Maya temples andtombs. New York: Scribner.

Schiffer, M. B. (1987). Formation processes of the archaeological record. Albuquerque: University of NewMexico Press.

Seinfeld, D., von Nagy, C., & Pohl, M. (2009). Determining Olmec maize use through bulk stable carbonisotope analysis. Journal of Archaeological Science, 36, 2560–2565.

Shanks, M., & Tilley, C. (1987). Re-constructing archaeology: theory and practice. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press.

Shaw, L. C. (1999). Social and ecological aspects of Preclassic Maya meat consumption at Colha, Belize. In C.D. White (Ed.), Reconstructing ancient Maya diet (pp. 83–102). Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

Sheets, P., Dixon, C., Guerra, M., & Blanford, A. (2011). Manioc cultivation at Ceren, El Salvador:occasional kitchen garden plant or staple crop? Ancient Mesoamerica, 22(1), 1–11.

Sheets, P., Lentz, D., Piperno, D., Jones, J., Dixon, C., Maloof, G., & Hood, A. (2012). Ancient maniocagriculture south of the Ceren village, El Salvador. Latin American Antiquity, 23(3), 259–281.

Sierra Carrillo, D. (2006). Plantas, ofrendas, y rituales en el centro de México. In L. López Luján, D.Carrasco, & L. Cué (Eds.), Arqueología e historia del centro de México: homenaje a Eduardo MatosMoctezuma (pp. 483–492). Mexico: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

Simms, S. R., Berna, F., & Bey, G. (2012). A prehistoric Maya pit over? Microanalysis of fired clay ballsfrom the Puuc region, Yucatan, Mexico. Journal of Archaeological Science, 40, 1144–1157.

Sluyter, A. (2005). Recentism in environmental history on Latin America. Environmental History, 10(1),91–93.

Smart, T. L., & Hoffman, E. S. (1988). Environmental interpretation of archaeological charcoal. In C. A.Hastorf & V. S. Popper (Eds.), Current paleoethnobotany: analytical methods and cultural interpre-tation of archaeological plant remains (pp. 167–205). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Snead, J. E., Erickson, C., & Darling, J. (Eds.). (2009). Landscapes of movement: trails, paths, and roads inanthropological perspective. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology andAnthropology.

Soleri, D, Winter, M., Bozarth, S., & Hurst, W.J. (2013). Archaeological residues and recipes: exploratorytesting for evidence of maize and cacao beverages in Postclassic vessels from the Valley of Oaxaca,Mexico. Latin American Antiquity, 24(3):345–362.

Stacey, R., Cartwright, C., & McEwan, C. (2006). Chemical characterization of ancient MesoamericanCopal resins: preliminary results. Archaeometry, 48(2), 323–340.

Stross, B. (1973). Acquisition of botanical terminology by Tzeltal children. In M. Edmonson (Ed.),Meaning in Mayan languages (pp. 109–141). Mouton: The Hague.

Sutton, M., & Arkush, B. (1996). Archaeological laboratory methods: an introduction. Dubuque: Kendall/Hunt.

Taube, K. (1996). The Olmec Maize God: The Face of Corn in Formative Mesoamerica. Res 29/30:39–82.Thrift, N. (1985). Flies and germs: a geography of knowledge. In D. Gregory & J. Urry (Eds.), Social

relations and spatial structures (pp. 366–403). New York: St. Martin’s Press.Thompson, V., & Waggoner, J. (Eds.). (2013). The archaeology and historical ecology of small scale

economies. Gainesville: University of Florida Press.Trabanino, F., Meléndez, L., & Caballero-Roque, A. (2012). Etnoarqueología del Huerto Familiar Chol en

Palenque. In M. A. Vásquez Dávila & D. G. López-Alzina (Eds.), Aves y huertos en México (pp. 104–105). Oaxaca: Instituto Technológico del Valle de Oaxaca.

Turkon, P. (2004). Food and status in the prehispanic Malpaso Valley, Zacatecas, Mexico. Journal ofAnthropological Archaeology, 23(2), 225–251.

Turkon, P. (2006). Morphological variation of maize cupules and access to high quality maize in thePrehispanic Malpaso Valley, Zacatecas, Mexico. Journal of Ethnobiology, 26(1), 139–164.


Turner, B. L., & Miksicek, C. (1984). Economic plant species associated with prehistoric agriculture in theMaya lowlands. Economic Botany, 38, 179–193.

Twiss, K. (2012). The archaeology of food and social diversity. Journal of Archaeological Research, 20,357–395.

van der Veen, M. (2003). When is food a luxury? World Archaeology, 34, 405–427.VanDerwarker, A. M. (2005). Field cultivation and tree management in tropical agriculture: a view from

Gulf Coastal Mexico. World Archaeology, 37(2), 274–288.VanDerwarker, A. M. (2006). Farming, hunting, and fishing in the Olmec world. Austin: University of

Texas Press.VanDerwarker, A. M. (2010). Correspondence analysis and principal components analysis as methods for

integrating archaeological plant and animal remains. In A. M. VanDerwarker & T. M. Peres (Eds.),Integrating zooarchaeology and paleoethnobotany: a consideration of issues, methods, and cases (pp.75–97). New York: Springer.

VanDerwarker, A. M., & Peres, T. M. (2010). Integrating zooarchaeology and paleoethnobotany: aconsideration of issues, methods, and cases. New York: Springer.

VanDerwarker, A. M., & Kruger, R. (2012). Regional variation in the importance and uses of maize in theearly and Middle Formative Olmec Heartland: new archaeobotanucal data from the San CarlosHomestead, Southern Veracruz. Latin American Antiquity, 23(4), 509–532.

VanDerwarker, A.M., Scarry, M., Eastman, J. (2007). Menus for families and feasts: household andcommunity consumption of plants at Upper Saratown, North Carolina. In K. Twiss (Ed.) Thearchaeology of food and identity (pp. 16–49). Occasional Paper 34. Carbondale, IL: Center forArchaeological Investigations, Southern Illinois University.

Villa Kamel, A., Álvarez del Castillo, C., Hernández del Omo, J., Castrejón, J. L., & González Quintero, L.(2003). Análisis morfológico del maíz arqueológico de la Organera-Xochipala, Guerrero. In A.Montúfar López (Ed.), Estudios etnobiológicos pasado y presente de México (pp. 109–125). Mexico:Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

Vogt, E. Z. (1976). Tortillas for the gods: a symbolic analysis of Zinacanteco rituals. Cambridge: HarvardUniversity Press.

Walker, W. H. (2002). Stratigraphy and practical reason. American Anthropologist, 104, 159–177.Weismantel, M. J. (1988). Food, gender, and poverty in the Equadorian Andes. Philadelphia: University of

Pennsylvania Press.Welch, P. D., & Scarry, C. (1995). Status-related variation in foodways in the Moundville chiefdom.

American Antiquity, 60(3), 397–419.White, C. D., Pendergast, D. M., Longstaffe, F. J., & Law, K. R. (2001). Social complexity and food

systems at Altun Ha, Belize: the isotopic evidence. Latin American Antiquity, 12(4), 371–393.Whitmore, T. M., & Turner, B. L. (2001). Cultivated landscapes of Middle America on the eve of conquest.

Oxford: Oxford University Press.Whittington, S., & Reed, D. (1997). Commoner diet at Copan: insights from stable isotopes and porotic

hyperostosis. In S. Whittington & D. Reed (Eds.), Bones of the Maya: studies of ancient skeletons (pp.157–170). Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press.

Wobst, H. M. (1978). The archaeo-ethnology of hunter-gatherers or the tyranny of the ethnographic recordin archaeology. American Antiquity, 43, 303–309.

Wolf, E. (1982). Europe and the people without history. Berkeley: University of California Press.Wyatt, A. (2008). Pine as an element of household refuse. Journal of Ethnobiology, 28(2), 244–258.Wyatt, A. (2012). Agricultural practices at Chan: farming and political economy in an ancient Maya

community. In C. Robin (Ed.), Chan: an ancient Maya farming community (pp. 71–88). Gainesville:University Press of Florida.

Wyatt, A., Jarzen, D., Hare, L., & Emery, K. (2012). Preliminary investigations in macro- and microbotanyat Motul de San Jose. In A. Foias & K. Emery (Eds.), Politics, history, and economy in the classicMaya polity of Motul de San Jose, Guatemala (pp. 275–290). Gainesville: University Press of Florida.

Zimmerer, K. (1994). Human geography and the “new ecology”: the prospect and promise of integration.Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 84(1), 108–125.


Documents

Beyond the Ecofact: Toward a Social Paleoethnobotany in ...archaeobotany.berkeley.edu/publications/morellhart/... · dominated byceramicists, lithicists, osteologists, surveyors,